Around the Bend
by amythis
Summary: After five years of marriage, maybe it's time for Tony & Angela to have a baby. Story #4 in the "Tony & Angie series," which begins with "Stays in Vegas."
1. The Graduate

"Down, Grover!" Mother commands, but Tony doesn't mind the dog being the first to greet him.

"Hey, Grove, you been doin' a good job lookin' after everyone?"

Grover barks in that crisp way that only sheepdogs can. And, no, he hasn't treated us like his flock. It feels like we've done more caring for him than he's done for us, although the children love having a dog of course. Yes, he's technically Mother's, but since she now lives over my garage, well...

A lot has happened this year. Not that it's ever dull around here, especially since Tony entered my life, but this year in particular has been full of changes, although not the ones we expected.

The plan was that Tony would finish up college and then find a teaching job in the area. Then he and I would finally try to have a baby. After all, I'm 33 now and we can't postpone it forever.

Tony indeed graduated with a degree in Education. I was and am so proud of him! He's wonderful with children, and he's good at teaching people, whether it's cooking eggs with me or coaching Sam's Little League team.

The problem is, he didn't send out his résumé ahead of time, and so he didn't have a job lined up when he was done with school. He couldn't find one at first. And then one found him.

His counselor at Ridgemont recommended him for the position at Waller College. It sounded perfect for him. He'd be teaching History, which was his minor, and he'd also be the baseball coach. One problem: it was in South Bend, Indiana!

At first, Tony didn't want to take the job, but it sounded like a wonderful opportunity. I thought he should at least visit the campus and see what he thought.

"Angela! I can't move 756 miles away from here!"

"How do you know it's 756 miles?"

"Uh, I might've done a little research on it. You know, just, just in a daydreamy kind of way."

"I see. Well, why don't we take the kids this weekend, just for a little family vacation? It won't commit you to anything."

So we went, with Mother, too, of course. I pictured South Bend as a small town, but it's actually about twice the size of Fairfield, although with no city as big as New York nearby obviously.

I could see that Tony was very tempted but he didn't want to move that far away.

"What if we all move with you?"

"Yeah!" the kids exclaimed, eager for the adventure.

"I'm not leaving," Mother said.

"But you'll visit us, won't you, Grandma?"

"Hey, wait a minute, Angela, how can you just pick up and leave your agency?"

"Well, your contract is for a year. I can manage the agency long-distance for a year. I've hired some good people and they can look after things for me."

In the end, we agreed to at least try it for the Summer quarter. The kids would be out of school. We rented a nice three-bedroom house, smaller than back home but big enough.

It was fun in a way, an adventure. But the kids got homesick for their friends and grandparents (although both Mother and Tony's father Matty did visit for the 4th of July), and I missed my agency more than I expected. I've spent the last four years building it up and I'm very proud of it. Also, I had a lot of restless energy, which I tried to channel into oil paintings and afghans.

Yes, Tony and I talked about having our baby, but it seemed best to wait till his year was up in Indiana, especially when it became clear that I wouldn't be able to finish out that year. He offered to quit, but I still thought this was a wonderful opportunity for him.

"And after it's over, you'll find it easier to get a more local job."

"I guess. But I don't want to be apart from the family."

"I know. We'll all miss you. But really, it's not that different than if you'd kept playing baseball all this time." He injured his shoulder early on in our marriage. At first, he didn't know what to do with himself, but then I suggested he go to college, and that opened up new possibilities.

"Well, yeah, if you put it that way."

We stayed through Sam's August birthday. "Our little girl" turned eleven. She's very much a tomboy although she also likes dolls and sometimes dresses. She's wonderful at sports. I hope that when Tony and I do have a baby, it inherits his coordination. He hopes it's studious, like Jonathan.

"Our little boy" will be eight in a couple months. He reminds me of myself in some ways, but with unfortunately Michael's fondness for reptiles. It's easy to forget sometimes that our children don't biologically belong to both of us, because we've helped raise them together for five years. I honestly don't think Jonathan remembers a time before Tony and Samantha, and even for Sam I think the memories of life in Brooklyn with her mother have faded. I know I feel like my life didn't really start till the Micellis entered it.

Tony did worry about the family being without him, so he was relieved when Mother got kicked out of her apartment because of the no-pets rule. Although Mother and I argue a lot, Tony convinced us that I should convert the space over the garage into an apartment and she and Grover should move in. So we did, and we argued over that. Still, it is nice to have them close by and I know the children love it. I'll admit it is good to have another grown-up to talk to, although she can be terribly immature at times.

I considered getting another housekeeper but decided against it. The children are in school half the day and Mother looks after them when she's not in class. Yes, now she goes to college and loves it. She was a freshman when Tony was a senior, both at Ridgemont. She said, "If an old guy like Tony can go, why not a perky co-ed like me?" Of course, she's 52 and he's 31, although neither looks it.

Anyway, I'm a better cook than I was. I practiced in South Bend, another of the hobbies I took up. I'm not in Tony's league but I do all right. Luckily, the kids usually don't want anything elaborate. Even I can make a peanut butter & jelly sandwich, or mac & cheese.

When Tony visits, as he did once or twice a month this Fall, he of course prepares feasts for us. I overindulge, as I do with, well, anyway. I'm very happy that he's back for Christmas break.

And after the break, it'll only be four and a half months till Waller lets out for the summer. And then Tony can come home to us, for good I hope.

The kids push Grover aside and go get their hugs and kisses. I stay back, watching this family scene that I never get tired of. My family, my family. Why did I never feel like this during my first marriage? I don't think it was just that we had only one child and no dog.

The kids and Tony keep saying how much they miss each other, till Mother grouses, "Enough mush. When's dinner?"

Tony comes over and pinches her chin. "And to think some guys have battleaxes for mothers-in-law."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, feed me!"

"You ever see _Little Shop of Horrors_?" Tony asks me and I laugh. "Come on, Angela, show me what I've got to work with in the kitchen."

I'm sure he could find everything. I've tried not to change things too much in his absence, which is another reason I didn't hire another housekeeper. I wanted everything here to stay the same as much as possible, especially "his kitchen." (He was the main homemaker until he left for Indiana. He's a bit possessive about the house as a result.)

But I lead him into the kitchen and over to the cupboards. "There's some tuna and some—"

Before I can finish, he grabs me from behind and whirls me to face him. "I have missed you so bad, Baby!"

"I've missed you, too, Tony," I murmur, nestling against him.

"The only good thing about being apart is the reunions."

I smile. "Yes, but we'll see each other every day for a month."

He nibbles on my neck and says, "Yeah, but you have to go to work five days a week. So there'll be the reunion in the evening."

"True. And even on weekends, there's the reunion after waking up." And then I think of his usual condition when he wakes up and I wonder how I'm going to make it through the next few hours until the kids are asleep.

"Mmm, yeah."

"Tony, Mother and the kids are in the next room. And you're supposed to be making dinner."

He reluctantly lets go of me. "Right. You'd better go back to the living room. It's too distracting to have you in here so soon after I came home."

I don't know any couple who've been together as long as we have who have as much trouble keeping their hands off each other. Yes, we've been apart some of that time, but that never seemed to help with Michael. And we weren't married quite this long, just four and a half years.

I give Tony a big kiss and then slip back to the living room. I think it's going to be a very warm Winter Break.


	2. A Spirited Christmas

Angela and I try to be quiet as we put the presents under the tree. The kids, even seven-year-old Jonathan, no longer believe in Santa, but this is part of the family tradition, our blended family. We wait till the night before to put the presents out, although it can be a challenge keeping them hidden all this time. The ones I brought back from Indiana stayed in my suitcase, with the key well hidden. I think even Mona didn't track it down. And Angela kept most of the presents she bought at her Manhattan office.

"So this is the one for me?" I can't help asking, shaking the box a little. No rattle or other sound. Probably a sweater or something.

"That's one of the things you're getting."

"Yeah? Is one of the things something you've been giving me almost every night and/or morning since I got back?"

She blushes. Thirty-three years old and she still blushes like a teenager. It's very cute. "It might be."

"I haven't had it yet tonight." We had to wait till the kids fell asleep to come down here to get everything set up.

"You're right. And I guess we shouldn't wait till morning, because the kids will be up so early."

"Right. I think we're done here."

"Almost."

"Almost?"

She leads me over to the mistletoe. We already broke it in this year, but a few extra kisses sound like a good idea. We kiss for a very long time, as if there's no hurry to get upstairs. We love kissing each other. We always have.

Before we left for Indiana this summer, she and I took a little road trip, just the two of us. We found Make-Out Rock, or Kissing Rock as she insists on calling it. And sure enough, there was my name and hers, well, "Ingrid's," where I carved them into the rock. We were each other's first "grown-up kiss" twenty years ago. I kissed a lot of girls and women over the next fifteen years, but none better.

"Mmm, do you remember Christmas Eve four years ago?" I ask.

"I remember all our Christmases. And all our—" She blushes again. "All our times."

"Yeah, that was great!" I remember that night very vividly now. "But I mean the conversation we had after."

"Oh. About whether I should go off the Pill on New Year's Eve, like we talked about."

"Yeah. Well, I've been thinking. How long after you go off would it take for you to be fertile again?"

"I asked my doctor, just hypothetically. And she said it varies from woman to woman, but probably at least two or three months."

I take her hand and count off on her fingers. "So this is December. That would take us into January, February, March. And I'll be done with my year at Waller in May." It's not a full twelve months after all. I did the summer because they needed me for baseball, but I didn't start till June.

She nods. "I've thought of that, but I figured you'd want to wait till you were back for good before I'd go off the Pill."

I shake my head. "Angie, we've been waiting a long time. I don't want us to keep postponing for one reason or another."

"Yes, all your friends in Brooklyn probably think we should've had two or three children by now."

"Well, we won't go by the Pitkin Avenue schedule, since you're not Catholic."

"Right. But I feel like we should have a baby soon. It'll get riskier for me after age thirty-five. And on the other hand, my agency is in much better shape than it was when it started. I could take time off. I missed my agency when I was in Indiana, but it did survive without me those couple months."

I ask what I asked five years ago, when we'd just met but were having all kinds of serious talks. "How long would you take off?"

"I don't know, Tony. I don't think I can know that till I'm actually pregnant. Maybe not even till I have the baby. But it's not like when I was at Wallace and McQuade, when I was pregnant with Jonathan. I have flexibility I didn't have then."

"Yeah. And once I'm done at Waller, I can try to get a job that's not only in the area but one where I can take time off, help with the baby."

She smiles. "You really liked looking after Amber, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did." That was my job for three years, part-time sitter for the baby of her friends Ben and Isabel. She's a very cute baby, well, preschooler now.

"I was jealous of Isabel."  
"Yeah?"

"Yes, she was always the sensible friend, and then she went and had a baby at the very wrong time. But I still envied her."

"It'll be the right time for us, whenever it happens."

She kisses me. Then she says, "Come upstairs, Tony. It's after midnight and I want to give you your Christmas present."

I grin and let her lead me by the hand to our bedroom, as if I don't know the way, as if I don't want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her up.

After five years, we've become experts at quiet love-making. I miss the sounds of her cries and moans, sighs and groans, but she has a very expressive face, and body. And a lot can be conveyed in a whisper.

This time, before we get very far, she whispers, "I do have an actual present for you. Well, for us."

"Yeah?" I whisper back.

"Yes." She goes and gets a package from out of a box of her old "fat clothes," a place I haven't yet snooped in. "Merry Christmas, Tony."

I feel bad that I don't have a present in return. I think of making a dirty joke about a package for her, but I resist. "Thank you." I open it up and to my surprise it's body paint. I raise my eyebrows. "You miss painting?" She gave up on the portraits of fields after she moved back from Indiana.

"In a way. And I thought this would be fun to do as a couple."  
"Fun but messy. Why don't we save these for some time when we can be more leisurely? Maybe when the kids go back to school, we could spread a drop cloth in the living room and roll around in the paint."

She laughs. "Oh, Tony."

"No, Angie, really we can try it another time. Right now all I want is you."  
"That can be messy, too."

"If you do it right."

"I think we do it right."

I set the paintbox on the top of the dresser and come back to bed. Then we kiss and undress each other. She is still so beautiful to me, in some ways more beautiful than she was five years ago. I think it's partly that she has more confidence. I'm glad I can take some credit for that, but it's also that she's built up a successful business. She still has moments of doubt but she carries herself differently than she did, although still with a sweet vulnerability that she shows only to me.

Another thing, she was sexy when we met but I didn't know how passionate she was. And she's even more passionate and sexy now. I think she's going to be one of those women who's even hotter at 40, maybe at 50.

I am a very lucky man. And that's not even counting that sometimes we can read each other's minds, and other times we can surprise each other. We challenge each other, and we play together. And I don't just mean in bed. But, yeah, in bed, too.

Even though we've been making love once or twice a day for a week, I can't get enough of her. And she clings to me like she doesn't want to ever let me go. When it's very intense, she grabs my butt, or scratches my back. When it eases, she strokes my hair and nuzzles my neck. I go for the obvious points on her, but I also will caress her face or her back. She's very sensitive everywhere, so even the light touches are good.

I love moving inside her, feeling her all around me. I've never had bad sex (which sadly she can't say, thanks to her damn ex, Michael), but I can honestly say that every time with her is far beyond any sex I ever had. We are physically perfect for each other, but I think if we didn't love each other, well, it would just be terrific sex.

And, I don't know, maybe it's that I'm Italian, but it feels weird to not be making babies with my wife. With my first wife, Marie, I got her pregnant just the once, early on. We didn't know she had medical issues, issues that would eventually kill her. Angela is very healthy. And we have healthy appetites. But we've tried to wait, tried to be patient, held off on a kid together till the time is right. But maybe next year it will be.

"Oh, Tony, so good, God, I can't believe—Oh!" She's trying so hard to stay at whisper level, panting frantically into my ear.

"I know, Angie, I know," I murmur.

She holds me like we're wrestling as she comes. In fact, she's got me pinned to the mattress. But when she's done, I flip her over and pin her down. I have to finish, I can't wait!

"Yes, Tony, please, I love how it feels when you come in me!"

"Do you love it enough to come again?"

"Maybe if you—"

"If I do this? And this?"

Our yeses intertwine like our orgasms. And then I whisper, "Buon Natale, Mia Bella Angela."

"Our last Christmas before the baby," she murmurs.

I feel like we've just conceived it, but the conception is only mental at this point of course.


	3. Life with Father

I'm sitting on the couch in my robe and pajamas, slowly sipping Tony's special hot chocolate. (It's one recipe he won't share with me. I know there's cinnamon and a little bit of honey but there are mystery ingredients, too.) I'm watching Mother and the children open presents. She got over here even before the kids were up. We heard her rattling packages and knew that it was her, rather than a prowler.

It's Grover's first Christmas with a family, since he was a stray before Mother took him in. He's very excited about the festivities, and he shows his happiness by shredding all the wrapping paper he can get his paws on. Tony and I will clean up all this mess later. For now, we'll let them all have their fun.

Tony is getting everything recorded for posterity on the home-movie camera I got him. I had to buy a present I could give him in front of the family, although Mother of course made a crack about it having more intimate uses. She refuses to restrain herself in front of the children. Jonathan is still very innocent but I think Sam is starting to catch on to some of Mother's double meanings.

Tony still sees Sam as a little girl but she and I have had talks about growing up. She was so little, just five, when she lost her mother, so she didn't know where babies came from and used to ask me and Tony when and how we'd get one. I didn't want either Mother or Mrs. Rossini to tell her these things, for different reasons, and Tony really didn't want to. I ended up having a series of talks, trying to keep it relaxed and comfortable. I want us to be able to talk about anything, especially when she reaches the teen years. Anyway, she knows about periods and kissing and other delicate matters.

I in turn have been reluctant to have similar talks with Jonathan. He really is still a little boy. He knows the word "sex" but I don't think he knows exactly what it is, just what he observes on television. Tony has promised to have The Talk with Jonathan, but he's been away so much this year that there hasn't been a good opportunity. Maybe when I get pregnant. Jonathan is bound to have questions then.

The phone rings and Tony goes to get it. "Hey, Mrs. Rossini!" He always almost sings her name, like he's thrilled to hear from her. She's like family and we still see her when we go to Brooklyn, or when she visits us. In fact, we're going down to Brooklyn later today.

"Yeah, we'll be there in about—What?" Tony turns pale. "When?"

I set down my hot chocolate. The kids, Mother, and even Grover fall silent.

"Yeah, I'll get there as soon as I can. Thanks for letting me know. Goodbye!" he hangs up suddenly.

I go to him. "Tony?"

"She said Pop had a heart attack," Tony whispers.

"Oh no!"

"Grandpa!"

"Can we see him?" Jonathan asks. Matty has been like a grandfather to him, just like Mother has been like a grandmother to Sam, although of course Matty doesn't live as close and we don't see him as often.

Tony hesitates and then says, "You can all come with me to the hospital, but I don't know if they'll let any of us see him." I can tell he had a moment of wanting to be brave and go it alone, but Tony isn't really the lone hero type. And this is a time when he needs la famiglia around him.

We all dress quickly. Mother takes Grover over to the Witteners since we don't know how long we'll be gone, and they have a dog, too.

We all pile into Tony's van.

"Are you OK with driving?" I ask. "We could take my Jag."

"If someone else drove, I'd be too impatient. This will give me something else to think about."

"OK." I take his hand and give it a quick squeeze.

His driving is fine. A little fast but the roads are pretty empty on Christmas morning. God, Christmas! There's no good time for this to happen, but this is definitely a bad time. Well, hopefully Matty will recover soon. We can celebrate with him as soon as he gets out of the hospital. And maybe it'll cheer him up to see us all, as soon as we can visit. I know Tony wants to at least be in the building, rather than off in Connecticut. And it's not like we could've continued with the festivities knowing this.

We get to the hospital in an hour. The whole way down, Tony has the radio on. Mother protests the Christmas music, but I shush her. Whatever it takes to keep Tony relatively calm.

Mrs. Rossini is in the reception area when we go in.

"How is he?" Tony asks her before he even goes to the desk.

"I'm praying for him."

"Thank you," Tony says quietly. Then he goes to talk to the reception nurse.

I'm torn. Should I stay with the children or go with Tony? Mother and Mrs. Rossini signal to me that my place is at my husband's side and they'll look after Sam and Jonathan. So I join Tony.

The nurse says, "He's sleeping right now."

"Can I see him?"

"He probably won't be able to talk."  
"I just want to see my father." Tony sounds like he's going to cry.

"Of course, Sir, you can go. But not the children. He needs quiet."

He nods. The nurse tells him the room number. We join the others.

"Can I see Grandpa?"

"Not yet. Angela and I are going to just look in on him and then we'll leave."

I'm surprised for a moment that he wants me to be with him, although of course I'm his wife and want to offer him support. I just didn't think he'd want it right now.

We hug and kiss the children and then join hands and find Matty's room. I don't know what to say but Tony doesn't seem to want words right now.

Matty looks pale and small, and twenty years older than the last time I saw him, Thanksgiving at Mrs. Rossini's, only a month ago. I wonder if he had medical issues before. He always seemed so cheerful and healthy, like his son.

"Angie," Tony whispers, "Pop is so—"

"I know, Darling." I want to tell him that Matty will get better but I don't know that.

"Anthony? Angela?"

"Sorry, Pop, we didn't mean to wake you," Tony says, although I can see he's happy to hear his father's voice, no matter how faint and shaky. It means Matty is still alive.

"Come closer. I don't want to have to yell."

I realize suddenly that I've never heard Matty yell, except in joy when he saw Tony play against the Mets, the earlier game I mean, the one the Cardinals won. I think of Tony's injury four and a half years ago, how scared we all were, and how it turned out all right. Yes, Tony lost his career but he rebuilt his life. Maybe Matty can do that, too, although in his case he'd probably have to take early retirement from driving the garbage truck.

Tony and I step closer till we're right next to the bed.

"You're a good kid, Anthony."

"Thanks, Pop."

"So proud of you. I wish Lina could've seen the man you've become."

Now Tony starts crying, silent tears running down his face.

"And, Angela, you have been the angel who saved my boy."

I start crying, too, not as quietly. I hate how undignified my sniffles sound, although neither man seems to care.

"When you two have a son, will you name him after me?"

"Yeah, of course, Pop."

I want to say that there's no guarantee that our baby, if and when we have one, will be a boy, but I'm obviously not going to refuse such a request at such a moment. And I suppose if we had a girl, we could name her Maddy.

"Molto bene," Matty murmurs. Then he shuts his eyes. The monitor flatlines!

"Pop! Dad!" Tony doesn't care about being quiet anymore. He yells like a kid. "DADDY!" he sobs.

I put my arms around him as doctors and nurses rush into the room.


	4. Requiem

I feel like it's my fault, no matter how many times Angela and Mona tell me it's not. What if I hadn't taken the job in Indiana? What if I'd been around, visiting Pop regularly? Maybe I'd have seen that he wasn't as healthy as I thought.

I want to say that they don't understand, but of course they do. They lost Angela's father almost twenty years ago. And they knew Pop, how special he was.

"He was so kind, so loving," Angela keeps saying. She only knew him in his mellow late middle age. He did have a temper when I was a kid, and I brought it out a lot. I acted out after Mom died when I was 7, and then again after Grandpa died when I was 13. Now it feels like there are no grown-ups left, at least on the Micelli side in the U.S. How did I become the patriarch?

How did I become a Connecticut family man with two kids and a wife and a mother-in-law? I'm still a kid stealing bases, street signs, and kisses, right?

No, I'm a professor in Indiana. That's how much of a grown-up I've become. So why am I crying like a little kid?

"I don't want to go back!"

"Tony, you have to. You made a commitment. And it's only for a few more months."

"But what if something happens to you? Or the kids?"  
"Tony, we're young. What could happen to us?"

I don't say that my mom was young, and so was Marie. Instead I say, "What about Mona? She's over 50."

"Mother will outlive us all."

"What if—?"

"Tony, I know you're scared but this is not your fault. Your being in Indiana or Connecticut won't make any difference to our survival. Or yours."

She's putting it bluntly. And rationally I know she's right. But I still don't want to go.

"What about Sam? She's so sad about losing her grandfather. I can't just up and leave right now."

"I'll be here. And so will Mother. And you can keep calling and visiting us like before."

"It's not the same."

"No, it's not. But it's what you need to do."

"Dammit, Angela! My father just died and you don't want me to take time off to mourn him?"

"No, I don't. I know you, Tony. You need to keep busy. And Matty wouldn't you want to sit around crying about him."

I stare at her. This is my wife, the person who's supposed to support me in the rough times! I want to yell but I don't want to wake up the kids. So I just leave the bedroom and head downstairs. I expect her to follow but she doesn't.

I go into the kitchen, where Mona is raiding our fridge.

"Midnight snack, Mone?"

"Yes, you always have the good leftovers."

"Well, thanks."

Of course, now we've got all the baked goods that Mrs. Rossini and all my other neighbors, in Brooklyn and here, have brought over. I still cook though. It makes me feel like I'm doing something constructive. Maybe Angela's right. No, it's one thing to tell me to go on with my life and another to not even let me pause to mourn my father.

"Tony, did I ever tell you what your father said during my pregnancy scare a few years ago?"

I stare at her. That has to be the biggest conversation-stopper, or maybe conversation-starter, I've ever heard!

"I guess not. It turned out to be menopause. But before I figured that out, he said, 'If we do have a kid together, it'd be the best kid ever, because we've each got the best kid we could, so if we mix you and me together, it's gonna be così incredibile!' "

I just keep staring at her. I can't wrap my mind around this.

She pokes me in the stomach. "Hey, relax. I made that up. When I had Angela, there were complications and I could never get pregnant again. Which made me very sad for a long time, although it ended up saving me a fortune in contraception. But if I had had a pregnancy scare, that's exactly what your father would've said. Because that's the kind of man he was, always looking on the bright side."

As patiently as I can, I ask, "Mona, what is your point?"

"Tony, your father wouldn't want you to be miserable. He'd want you to live your life the way you would've lived it anyway."

"Why do you and your daughter act like it's a crime for me to miss my father? You know what a great guy he was."

"It's not a crime to miss him. It's just—" She sighs. "Do you know what Angela did when her father died?"

"Yeah, she told me. She developed a weight problem." I can't see myself escaping through food. In fact, I have hardly any appetite.

"Yes, that was part of it. But she also took on all the responsibility for the bills and everything."

"Yeah, she told me that, too."

"Angela was crazy about her father. But she couldn't stop to mourn him. Yes, she cried but it was while she was getting everything done. And that's how she copes."

I shake my head. "Not all the time. Sometimes she retreats, to lick her wounds."

"That's true. Like when she got fired. But you were there to prop her up."

"Why can't she do that for me now? I need her, Mona! I need her to let me cry and be angry that God took my father!"

"I don't know, Tone," she says softly. "I don't know why she can't."

"She's sending me back to Indiana like she doesn't want me around."

"Oh, Tony, you know that's not true. Angela adores you. She always misses you terribly when you go away. But she also has a sense of duty. I blame all those Jane Austen novels."

I can't laugh. "I have a sense of duty, too. But I think it's my duty to stay here, with the family."

"And what? Guard us like Grover?"

"Mone."

"Tony, I know you want us all to be safe. And do you think Angela doesn't worry every time you board a plane that you might not come back? But she sends you away with a smile. She tries to seem strong."

"I, I didn't know."

"Well, now you do."

I again don't know what to say. Then Angela comes in.

"Mother," she scolds, looking at the food Mona is trying to sneak off with.

"Hey, no one else was eating it." But she puts half of it back. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mother."

"Night, Mone."

As soon as the door shuts, Angela says, "Tony, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

I put my arms around her and kiss her cheek. "It's OK, Baby, I know."

"If you do want to take some time off, I'm sure Waller would understand."

It's tempting to stay. But maybe she's right. Maybe I need to go ahead with my life, the way we planned it back in June, and then re-planned in August.

"Well, if I go, I swear I'm not going to ever leave you and the kids again once I come back in May."

"What if the Mets recruit you out of retirement?"

"Well, I might make an exception for the Mets." Then I start crying again.

"Tony?"

Then I tell her the story of how my father got me a baseball signed by all of the '62 Mets. "...Marvelous Marv Throneberry. Choo Choo Coleman. My old man was the biggest Mets fan that ever existed."

"He must have been so proud of you when you made it to the Major Leagues."

"Proud? He was dancing in the streets."

"Tony, speaking of dancing..."

I know what she's referring to. She made me clear out Pop's apartment. I probably would've kept paying the rent indefinitely, to feel like he still lived in Brooklyn. It broke my heart to see the little tree with our presents underneath. I still haven't opened mine, but Sam tore hers open and was thrilled that it was a baseball mitt. Jonathan hesitated but then opened his gift, a book about snakes. (He really wants a pet snake, but Angela keeps vetoing it, saying that a dog is enough.)

Anyway, one of the things we took was my dad's record collection. It turns out that Angela and I both love big band music as much as we love Motown. She wanted to play a record when we got home, but I said no.

She's right though, it's time. Yeah, it's the middle of the night and the kids are sleeping, but hell, it's the weekend and they don't go back to school till Monday. And we'll probably be quiet anyway.

So we go in the living room and I put a record on low. Nothing fast. Someday I'll play her something up-tempo that we can do the Lindy to. Right now, it's Count Basie's "Easy Does It," not a slow song in the sense of a romantic slow song. Just something slow and, well, easy. It's all I can handle right now. I still get a rush of memories, remembering Pop and Mom dancing to this in the living room, that tiny living room, when the whole apartment was the size of this living room.

"Mother and Daddy used to dance to this," Angela murmurs.

"Yeah, it's good old-married-couple music," I say. But they weren't old, and neither are we. Just not kids anymore.


	5. Death and Love

I try not to shatter my coffee cup when I set it down suddenly. "Divorced?!"

"Don't look so shocked, Angela. Ben and I haven't gotten along for years. And you know what that's like."

Yes, I do, but I got a divorce when things first got really bad. I didn't go on to have another child with Michael, like Isabel did with Ben, although admittedly Amber was unplanned. And meanwhile, Isabel kept going to med school, graduating in '82.

"Have you told the children?"

"I told David. He's almost eight, and I think he's suspected for awhile. Amber is too little."

I nod. Amber is about the age Jonathan was when I got divorced. I never really explained to him that Daddy and I wouldn't be living together anymore. I didn't explain why Tony and Sam moved in either. He just accepted these occurrences as part of life, with the calm of a toddler who never really went through the terrible twos.

"Anyway, I wanted to tell you before Wendy. You know what she's like."

"What she's like?" Wendy is obsessed with sex, in a different way than my mother is. (Mother wants everyone to have as much sex as she has, while Wendy lives vicariously through her friends, since she and Herb are, um, not very active.) But I'm not sure how that applies here, except that it means that Isabel and Ben are no longer having sex.

"Yes, she'll be sure that I must be having an affair with someone if I'm finally getting divorced."

"You wouldn't do that," I say, since I wouldn't have done it myself. Yes, I flirted mildly with Grant, but I did stay faithful, unintentional polygamy aside.

"Right. It wouldn't be fair to Paul or anyone."

Now I spill my coffee. "Paul?"

"Paul Ferguson."

"Marci's father? Dr. Paul Ferguson?"

"Very good, Angela, you figured that out."

"Isabel, this isn't funny! Are you in love with Paul Ferguson?"

"I was hoping you'd take it better than this."

I go and get a towel to clean up the coffee. "I'm just, well, surprised."

"I understand. This is a lot to throw at you at once. I've been wanting to talk to you about it for awhile, but with everything you were going through with Tony's father's death, I kept putting it off. But now Ben has agreed to the divorce, one of the few things we agree on, and I figured it was time."

As I wipe up the coffee, I say, "So are you getting divorced because of Paul?"

"Not exactly."

"Isabel."

"Well, Paul and I are both doctors and we started out as friends because of that. I mean, we've known each other for years, but it wasn't till we started working at the same hospital that we really connected. But nothing was going on, except that I realized he made me happy in a way that Ben never had. Just even talking is nice. And he's a widower, so he wasn't expecting to find anyone again. He didn't even really date much, in the way that you said Tony did in the interval between you and his first wife."

I see parallels to my own situation, but great differences as well. I had at least attempted to divorce Michael before I got together with Tony.

"I suppose I would've divorced Ben eventually, but now I know I can't continue this marriage any longer. And Ben agrees."

"Does he know about Paul?"

"I told him I'd kissed another man."  
"Oh, Isabel!"

"Just kissed I swear. But Paul and I want to pursue this, and we need to do it honestly."

"I see." I don't feel like I can judge her, given my murky marital history, but I do worry about her. She's so calm and sensible in some ways, but she also makes these drastic choices. And I worry about the children, because this must be a confusing time for them, even little Amber. "Does Marci know?"

"No, none of the children know anything except that Ben and I are getting divorced. Marci is ten so she may suspect, but Paul and I aren't officially seeing each other yet, and he's holding off on saying something till we do. So please don't tell Sam."  
"Of course not." I wonder how Marci will feel. She and Sam were already best friends when Marci's mother was hit by a drunk driver a couple years ago, but the two girls grew even closer with that bond of having lost their mothers. Sam accepted me as her stepmother very easily, but she was six and living in my home. Also, my divorce from Michael had nothing to do with Tony. Marci is a pre-adolescent who may resent this woman who's getting a divorce because of Marci's father. And that may be difficult for Sam to deal with.

I remind myself that I'm getting ahead of things. No one has said anything about Isabel and Paul getting married. And even if they did, it wouldn't be right away, not when they haven't really dated yet. Of course, I'm not much of a judge of these things, having married Tony less than 24 hours after my Reno divorce attempt, with an undissolved first marriage then still to be dealt with.

"Anyway, sorry to dump all this on you."

"Isabel, we're friends. And you've been wonderful about Tony's father." She reassured me when I told her how I kept saying the wrong things to Tony. I just hadn't known what to do or say. And of course it's not all over. Tony has gone back to South Bend, but obviously he's still grieving. I just thought that he should throw himself into work. That's what I would've done.

She shrugs. "Death is easy. It's life that's complicated."

She's right, and wrong. But I don't want to argue about it. Tony has had three major losses: his wife and his parents. I know he doesn't want to lose me or the children. But he's helped me face things and so I want to help him face this, but I don't know the right way to do it. Yes, I lost my father, but I was a teenager and didn't handle it very well.

She gets to her feet. "Anyway, I should be going. David will be home from school soon and—"

I leap up suddenly, realizing that Jonathan will be home, too. And Sam of course. There was so much I meant to get done on this work-from-home day, but then Isabel dropped by and the afternoon has just slipped away.

She gives me a quick hug. "Thanks for listening."

"Of course. Take care, Isabel. I really do hope everything works out for you."

"Thanks. Sometimes I wish I'd gotten divorced when you did, when things were simpler. But then I wouldn't have Amber."

"Right."

After she leaves, and before the kids come home, I wonder what it would've been like if I'd had two children when I went through my divorce. Somehow that seems harder than with one, I'm not sure why.

Sam was my unplanned "second child." A six-year-old with ponytails and missing teeth, and a very strong, individual, adorable personality. A daughter that could never have come from me, unless Mother's self-confidence had skipped a generation. Just like Jonathan could never have been Tony's biological son but is nonetheless "Tony's boy."

It's not that the children aren't enough. Sometimes they're more than enough. But Tony and I have always wanted a child that comes from both of us. He's such a good dad, and he thinks I'm a good mom, and we'd love to start together from the very beginning this time. But we've postponed it again and again, for very good reasons, mind you. But, yes, we are tired of waiting.

The thing is, well, I did stop taking the Pill. We hadn't totally settled when I'd stop, and I did intend to go till the 31st, just to finish off the year. But what happened was Christmas morning Mother woke us so early, and obviously the whole rest of that awful day threw me off. By the time I remembered, a couple days had passed. And I just kept not taking it. I meant to discuss it more with Tony, but we weren't making love so I wasn't sure if it even mattered.

He normally has an incredible libido. Mother sometimes teases me, "That's what you get for marrying an Italian." Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I'm usually in the mood or able to get there, and if I'm genuinely not, he's patient and understanding. So I'm trying to be patient and understanding for him now.

He told me, "I don't think it's guilt or anything. I mean, Pop would want us to keep, well, anyway. It's just I'm too sad."

So we kissed and cuddled and even danced to big band music. But we haven't had sex since very early on Christmas. We'll have to discuss this when he returns in a few weeks. I assume he'll still want a baby, and obviously Matty wanted us to. But I think Tony feels sad at the thought that Matty and the baby will never meet.

Meanwhile, I'm off the Pill, perhaps for good. It's one less thing to deal with each day.

"Mom, guess what happened in school today?"

"Hi, Sweetheart." I kiss Jonathan's cheek. "What?"

So he tells me all about the science demonstration in the auditorium. He's only in second grade so dry ice is amazing to him. Sam is more blasé about it when she comes in a minute later. I don't know if this is preteen cool or if it's part of her mourning of Matty. She cried a lot the first week, but she's quieter now. I'm not sure what she's feeling, or how to get her to open up more. I can't tell what's normal and what I should be concerned about.

As for Jonathan, he and Matty were fond of each other, but they weren't related by blood, so I don't know if that makes a difference. This is the first death that Jonathan has really had to deal with, and he had lots of questions for me and Tony at first. I felt bad that I don't have any real answers.

And then there's Mother. I think she misses Matty more than she's admitting. You know Mother, always covering up her feelings with jokes. And I don't think they were in love or anything, but they did date off and on for years and of course they were connected through the family. But she won't talk seriously about him to me or Tony or anyone.

I miss him myself, but mostly I have to deal with how the others are coping with his loss. And I worry that I could be dealing with it better. Maybe I shouldn't have sent Tony back to Indiana. Maybe we should be sharing this burden. But it's too late now. And I learned during my first marriage how to shoulder burdens alone.


	6. Angela's Ex

"Happy Birthday, Jonathan!"  
"Gee, thanks, Tony!"

Angela told me that I didn't have to get Jonathan a present, that my visiting here would be enough. But I know kids. He may be glad to see me after almost a month but I couldn't show up empty-handed.

He's about to rip the wrapping paper off when the doorbell rings. "I'll get it!" he cries.

I look at Angela, who shrugs. Maybe it's one of Jonathan's friends. He didn't want a birthday party, since I wasn't sure if I could make it this weekend, especially since I'll be back for Presidents' Weekend. But of course this doesn't have to just be the family. It's great if he wants to share it with a friend.

"Little Tiger!"

"Daddy!"

Well, it is family. Sometimes I half forget that Michael is still in the picture. It's not like he visits much.

"Michael, what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss my son's eighth birthday, could I?"

Angela bites her tongue, but I know she's thinking of all the birthdays and other special days that Michael has missed. I made sure to be here for Jonathan's third birthday, even though I had to be a couple days late for Spring training. And this year I came all the way from Indiana. But I know, it's not a competition.

"Here you go, Sport."

"Gee, thanks, Daddy!" He grabs Michael's present and starts tearing it open. My present lies forgotten on the coffee table. Angela looks at me sympathetically. "Wow!" Jonathan lifts out an iguana!

"Michael, how can you give that thing to a child?"

"Well, you said you didn't want him to have a snake."

"It looks so gross! Can I hold him?" Sam asks.

Michael says, "Why don't you two take the iguana outside and find him some bugs to eat?"

"Talk about gross!" Sam says.

"Daddy, I don't think there are many bugs around in Winter. I've been checking."

"Well, how about the attic?"

"Ay-oh, oh-ay, that attic is immaculate."

"Yes, Tony cleaned it out years ago and we've tried to keep it clean since then."

Mona speaks up for the first time since Michael came in. "I'll take the kids over to the Wilmingtons'. They've got a greenhouse."

Angela and I look at her gratefully. We're not sure what this is about but I get the feeling that Michael isn't just here because of Jonathan's birthday.

After Mona, the kids, and the iguana leave, Angela says, "Michael, what is this visit really about?"

"You're always so suspicious, Angela."

"Not without cause."

He sighs and then says, "Well, I wanted to talk to you in person about this. I'm getting married again."

We both stare at him.

"Hey, why so shocked? Just because I didn't leap right back into marriage like you two did."

Angela blushes. Obviously, she wouldn't have gotten married right after her divorce if she'd been sober at the time. And I would've mourned Marie longer. Not that we regret it, but usually we're the kind of people who overthink things.

"Who are you marrying?" I ask. I can't remember ever hearing about him dating anyone.

"Her name is Heather."

"Heather," Angela echoes. "She sounds like she's 16."

"No, she's 22. And a half."

"Good grief, Michael, you're marrying someone young enough to still measure her age in halves?"

"She's very mature. Anyway, I'd like Jonathan to be at my wedding."

"When is it?" I ask.

"June. So the kids will be out of school. You're all invited of course."

"Even Mother?" Angela asks, and I remember that Mona and Michael have never gotten along.

"Yeah, all right, invite Mona if you want. Hell, invite Tony's father if you want."

"Matty died in December," Angela says quietly as I look away.  
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

I want to say something about how he doesn't know much about this family. But I just say, "That's OK."

"About the wedding, Michael—"

"Angela, I want Jonathan to be my best man."  
"He's a little boy!"

"He just has to wear a suit, make a little speech, support me on my special day."

I can see she wants to object that that's too much pressure to put on Jonathan, but she doesn't want to be the bad guy.

"And you can be matron of honor."

She stares at him.  
"Kidding. Heather's mother is more matronly than you."

"How old is she? Forty? And a half?"  
"Cute, Angela. Anyway, the wedding will be in L.A. on—"

"L.A.? Michael, you hate Los Angeles!"

"Not anymore. I shot a film out there and really grew to like the sunshine and the skating and the long walks on the beach."

"Where'd you meet Heather? On _The Dating Game_?"

He looks at me. "You know when Angela and I were married, some people thought I was the sarcastic one."

"Hard to believe."

Then Mona, the kids, and the iguana return.

Sam runs up to me. "Dad, you should've seen Mrs. Wilmington jump when she saw the iguana!"

In a loud whisper, Mona says, "Well, first she jumped when we walked in on her gardener about to show her his lizard."

Angela shakes her head and I know she wants to scold her mother, but not in front of Michael.

"I guess you won't be able to ask Mrs. Wilmington to iguana-sit when you come visit me in California, huh, Little Tiger?"

"Mommy, can I go see Daddy? He's going to take me to Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm and Universal Studios and—"

"And a wedding," she murmurs, sounding like she's still in shock.

"Oo, I love weddings!" Sam says. She does. Tomboy or not, she loved being a part of my wedding to Angela.

Jonathan makes a face and asks, "Why would I want to go to a stupid, old wedding?"

"Well, I don't think this one is stupid, Sport. It's mine."

Mona looks like she's about to say something but actually restrains herself, which may be a first.

"Really, Daddy?"

"Yeah, and I'm gonna need a best man. But if you think it's stupid—"

"What's a best man?"

"Well, I've always thought the best man was one who—" Angela gives Mona a look that shuts her up, for the moment.

"You remember, Jonathan, like Bobby Governale at Dad and Angela's wedding."

"Oh. Do I have to play the accordion?"

Michael looks confused. I manage not to laugh. I say, "It's optional."

"Well, I guess I could be best. Who are you marrying, Daddy?"

"Her name is Heather and she can't wait to meet you, Little Tiger."

"Oo, I love the name Heather!" Sam says. "All the girls named Heather are blonde and beautiful. I wish I was named Heather!"  
"What's wrong with 'Samantha'?" I demand. "Or with being brunette?"

Mona looks meaningfully at Angela, who ignores her and instead asks, "Michael, are you staying for dinner?"

"Well, if it's no trouble. And I do remember that Tony is a good cook."

"Oh, Angie's cooking tonight," I say.

He stares at me and then her. I guess there's a lot these two exes don't know about each other's current lives.

It turns out he didn't even know I'm teaching college in South Bend. Yes, he's very surprised. But I think he still thinks of me as I was when we met five years ago, a jock from Brooklyn with only a high school education.

It's not till Michael leaves that Jonathan remembers my present. "I'm sorry, Tony."

"Hey, no sweat."

Angela looks at me and I know she's thinking about how I still haven't opened my Christmas present from Pop. I know it's silly, but I feel like if I don't open it, then it's like he hasn't really died. And in a weird sort of way, living in Indiana has helped. It's easier to pretend he's still in Brooklyn if I can't go visit him easily. (And I'm not leaving Connecticut till I catch my plane back tomorrow.)

Jonathan goes and gets my gift and opens it.

"Wow, Tony, an _E.T._ piggy bank!"

I was worried he'd think it was too babyish, and it's not like the movie just came out. But he does like sci-fi, and money.

"You like it, Pal-o-Mine?" Maybe compared to a live iguana it's nothing, but he is smiling.

"I love it! Thank you! This is the best birthday ever!" He gives me a big hug and then goes upstairs to show Sam.

I look at Angela and can see that her smile is strained.

I go over to her and put my arms around her. "It's hard on you, isn't it? Seeing Michael, even after all this time?"

She nods. "And I know it's silly, when I've got you, but it feels strange to hear that he's marrying someone else. Not that I'm jealous."

"Even though she's 22 and named Heather?" I tease.

"Twenty-two and a half. I don't know. I guess it's just strange to think of him with another wife."

"Yeah, I can kind of understand that. It was probably strange for him when you got remarried."

"I hadn't thought of that. It was probably worse for him actually, since you fit in here, in the house he and I bought together, in a way that he never did."

"Yeah." I remember the _Michael Loves Angela_ graffiti I painted over in the kitchen a couple years ago when I got tired of seeing it every time I moved the refrigerator.

"I'm sure it's hard for Ben seeing Isabel date Paul."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, right. Well, I guess I can tell you now that Wendy knows..."


	7. Nineteen Again

"Happy Belated Valentine's Day," Tony whispers as he enters me.

I try not to giggle. After eight weeks without sex, I don't want to shatter the mood.

We talked about having sex last weekend but that was all we did, talk. It was more a matter of a mental block than physical impotence per se. Some of it was grief over Matty, but it was also that Tony felt like adulthood had closed in on him in a different way now that he'd lost his father.

"I feel like I'm middle-aged all of a sudden."

I tried not to laugh then either. "Tony, you're only 31 and you are incredibly youthful."

He just shook his head. I wasn't sure how to handle this. I didn't want to pressure him. But I didn't want this to go on forever, becoming more and more of a problem.

I reluctantly asked Mother for advice. Oh, believe me, I didn't want to tell Mother that Tony and I hadn't had sex since Christmas. But she has a sixth sense for when I'm having sex or not. She can apply it to other people, too, but she can read me more easily than anyone.

"Don't you think you two should get to work on making Baby Matty?" That's how she introduced the subject. Well, no one ever accused her of being too subtle.

"What do you mean?"

"I know Tony's father always wanted a grandson. And he tried to be patient about it. But just because he's dead, that's no reason not to have a baby anyway."

"Mother, it's complicated."

"Complicated? Dear, we had this little chat twenty-five years ago. You need to have sex to make babies."

I blushed. "It's not my fault. Tony has lost interest. Not in me, but in sex."

"Do you know why?"

"It's tied up with his feelings about mortality and getting older I think."

"Hm."

"Do you have any advice?" I asked, since she can be sensible when she wants to be.

"Yes, wear a miniskirt and take him to a drive-in."

"Excuse me?"

"Angela, he's afraid of getting old and dying. Make him feel young again. Pretend it's the 1960s. Only his 1960s, not yours."

"Mother, that's crazy."

"Well, if you change your mind, I know where I can get ahold of a '67 Chevy for you."

That was Monday. Then he called on Tuesday to wish me a Happy Valentine's Day. "I wish I could be there to celebrate, but I'll see you Friday night."

I blurted out, "Tony, when I pick you up at the airport, could you be wearing a T-shirt and jeans?"

"Uh, yeah, if you want." I wondered if he'd ask why, but he didn't.

So I drove the Chevy that Mother borrowed from one of her boyfriends and picked up Tony at JFK. I'd decided to go for a mod, young-Teri-Garr sort of look, with a diagonally striped minidress in hot pink and orange. I didn't change till after work of course. Yes, I felt self-conscious at the airport, but no one seemed to care.

Except Tony. He got a huge grin on his face when he saw me. He was dressed like he was when Sam made him be Danny Zuko for Halloween, minus the leather jacket. I grinned back.

"What are you up to?" he whispered in my ear when we hugged hello.

"You'll see. Let's get your luggage."

Over at the baggage claim, he was very affectionate, holding my hand, kissing me, stroking my hair. All from a minidress!

And then when he saw the car, he was in Heaven! "Oh, Angie, for me?"

"I'm afraid we have to return it tomorrow."

"Can I drive?"

"Of course," I said, handing him the keys. "But we're not going directly home. Mother is babysitting tonight and you and I have a date."

He grinned again. I directed him to the 303 Drive-in in Orangeburg, which Mother had recommended. We decided on _Footloose_ , which turned out to be a teenage musical. Not that it really mattered of course.

We started making out during the opening credits, and continued pretty much nonstop till the closing credits. But I can tell you the soundtrack was good.

It was mostly necking, but he did feel me up above the waist. As soon as the movie was over, he drove us back to Fairfield, but not home. Instead, he took me to a scenic lookout, telling me it would work as an "Inspiration Point." I'd told him a couple years ago about a bad boy I had a crush on in high school, Jake the Snake. Jake was always taking girls to Inspiration Point. Not me of course. I was not only a good girl, I was fat and nerdy. But as Mother said, this isn't my 1960s tonight.

When it became abundantly clear that Tony wanted to make love in the Chevy, I hesitantly pointed out that it isn't our car.

"I'll clean it tomorrow."

"OK," I whispered, not wanting anything to stop us when he was far more in the mood than he'd been in weeks. I didn't even mention that I've gone off the Pill. After all, we had agreed to try for a baby, and it hasn't even been two months yet, so I'm probably not fertile yet.

It feels so good to feel him moving inside me. The two of us pulse together, like our heartbeats.

"Mmm, Angie, I've missed you!" he sighs when we're curled up together on the backseat afterwards. "I'm sorry I haven't—"

"I'm sorry, too."

"Life goes on I guess."

"Obladi oblada."

He smiles and strokes my hair. "Yeah. Do you still want to start a baby this year?"

"Yes."

"Then maybe you'd better go off the Pill."

"Um, actually." I explain what happened.

I expect him to be angry that we didn't discuss it again after his father died, but he says, "Well, maybe it's for the best. Who knows? Maybe we'll have a baby in November and name it after Chevy Chase."

I giggle. "Maybe. But I think it's still a little early."

"You should check with your doctor, just to be sure."

"I'll make an appointment for as soon as I can."

"Good. If we made a baby tonight, that's—" He takes my hand and counts off the months on my fingers again. "February, March, April, May. You'd be about three months along by the time I come home for good. That's not bad."

"Yes. You'd be spared the first trimester."

"I want to go through as much of it as I can with you. I missed a lot when Marie was pregnant with Sam. My summer baby." His smile is bittersweet, probably remembering what he missed but also what he was there for.

"If you didn't get me pregnant tonight, well, I had fun anyway."

"Me, too. Of course, the fun doesn't have to end."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Mrs. Micelli, what do you say we go home and have some quiet, respectable matrimonial sex?"

Nuzzling his neck, I say, "It'll be matrimonial and it'll have to be quiet, but who says it has to be respectable?"

We end up not getting home at a respectable hour, but Mother does not complain.


	8. Guess Who's Coming Forever?

"Well, Dear, how did it go?"

She says nothing, just drifts into the living room in a daze.

"Angela? How did it go at the doctor's? What did she say about when you can get pregnant?"  
"Christmas," she murmurs.

"Christmas? That's ten months away!"

Angela shakes her head. "I got pregnant at Christmas."

"This past Christmas?"

"Of course, Mother," she says irritably.

"What do you mean of course? You told me that you didn't go off the Pill till after you had sex with Tony, the day his father died. How could you have been retroactively fertile?"

"Failure rate of less than 1%," she murmurs.

"So, what, one in two hundred?"

"Something like that."  
"Well, you've been using it for over five years with Tony, so you two must've had sex at least two hundred times by now."

She blushes. "Yes."

"You're lucky this didn't happen in the first year."

"Mother, please."

"You do want this baby, don't you, Angela?"  
"Of course. I'm just stunned."

"Oh, Tony's going to be so thrilled when you tell him!"

She shakes her head. "I can't tell him. Not yet."

"Why not?" I demand.

"He'll come back early. I mean for good. He'll leave South Bend before his year is up."

I pat the cushion beside me. "Dear, sit down, we need to talk."

She sits. "Where are the children?"

"At after-school programs. I still expect to be paid for babysitting."

"OK."

I shake my head. I've never seen her like this. "Angela, don't you think it's unfair to not tell Tony? It's his child, too. And what are you going to do? Pretend you conceived over Presidents' Weekend?"

"I don't know. You're right. I'll have to tell him. But I'll wait till I can say it in person."

"When's he visiting again?"

"Spring Break."

This is Leap Day. "When is Waller's Spring Break?"

"I think it starts on St. Patrick's Day. I know that the equinox is part of it."  
"That's two and a half weeks away."  
"Yes."

"Why not just tell him now?" I would've expected her to grab the phone and immediately call him.

"Because the longer I wait, the closer to the end of his year it'll be. And maybe I can convince him that he might as well stay in Indiana till May."

I shake my head. But I know my daughter. If I push too much on this, she'll end up deciding to wait till May to tell him. Then a thought strikes me and I start laughing.

She glares at me. "Mother, this isn't funny!"

"No, I was just thinking. You're going to be in your sixth month when you show up at Michael's wedding!"

"Ugh, I hadn't thought of that."

I can just picture it, Angela waddling in and Michael looking stunned. Then it hits me. "What are you going to tell the children?"

"Nothing, not till I tell Tony. And then he and I can discuss what to tell them."

"I think they'll be happy. They've wanted you two have a baby for years."

"Yes, but the reality of it may be quite different."

"Yes. Wow! Another grandchild!"

"Yes."

I give her a hug, and I'm not always a hugging kind of person. "I am happy for you two, even if the timing is a little off."

"Thank you. It's not bad timing, just sooner than I was expecting."  
"Right. So late September?"

"I think so."

"Are you going to take any time off work?" She's still prone to long hours at the office, despite Tony's and my best efforts.

"Yes, but I haven't decided how much. It's still sinking in. And I should be able to work through the rest of the first trimester, and maybe all of the second one."  
That's better than I expected. With Jonathan, she practically went straight from a meeting to the delivery room.

Then I ask, "Do you want a boy or a girl?"  
"It doesn't matter. I mean, I'll care of course, but I'll love it either way."

"Well, of course." I think I'd prefer a granddaughter, slightly. They're more fun to shop for and to spoil. But I adore Jonathan and another little boy could be fun, too. Only this one would have the Micelli machismo to balance out Angela's nerd genes.

"Mother, I think I'll lie down for awhile. It's too late in the day to go back to work."  
"Good idea, Dear, get some rest." I almost add, "While you can." I remember how it got to a point in my pregnancy when no position was comfortable to sleep in, although I badly craved sleep. And I got even less sleep after she was born of course.

I sit here awhile, lost in thought. So Angela is pregnant, at 33. Not too old, and nowadays you hear about all these women who put off having their first child until their 30s, career women like Angela, but usually not ones who've been married twice. (Well, three times, but we usually don't count Brian Thomas.)

I was her age when Robert died. I felt like my life was over, but it wasn't. It just wasn't the same.

Matty understood. He was young when he lost Lina, but he had a little boy to raise, a little boy who he never had any trouble expressing his love for, while I've always had a prickly relationship with Angela. But I think she knows I love her. And, yes, we fight more since I moved in above her garage, but I don't think we could do without each other now.

Jonathan asked me after the funeral if I'm going to die. I said, "Not any time soon, Kid. I have to see you grow up, go to college, get a good job." I know I shouldn't promise things like that, but I felt like now I'd have to keep it. And I intend to.

Matty used to talk about living to see his great-grandchildren, but he knew his time was limited. I knew it, too, although I never talked about it to Tony or Angela, because Matty didn't want them to worry. I don't know if this was right or not. Tony probably wouldn't have moved to Idaho, I mean Indiana, if he'd known. With me, Matty knew I wasn't going to cry or carry on.

I knew it was bad when Matty had to give up sex. He missed it, and I missed having it with him, although I had other boyfriends of course. He was a very warm, sweet man. But even without sex, he made me smile. We weren't in love, but it was good. We cared about each other, and of course we had the family in common. I miss him a lot, but I usually don't want to talk about it.

I like to think that Matty and Robert have made friends in Heaven. I hope they're happy about their shared grandbaby. I hope that Marie is happy, too. I think she would be pleased that Tony found someone new to love, someone who deserves him. I hope she's glad that Sam's getting a half-sibling. I don't think Michael will react well, even after the shock wears off, but the living can be troublesome compared to the dead.

I'm not sure what having a new grandchild will mean for me. I do babysit the kids but an infant needs a lot more attention, and you can't fill them with chocolate fudge sundaes. And, yes, since I live so close, Tony and Angela may expect me to help out more. I'll do some, but I do have a very active social life. Not to mention I'm in my sophomore year of college. (Lots of homework, and of course more demands on my social life.)

I still haven't decided on a major, although Angela nags me about it. Sometimes I consider Psychology, since I can read people pretty well and I give good advice. But do I want to spend all my time with crazy people? I mean more than I do already.

When the kids come home (from baseball and the Reptile Club), I make them a snack and ask about their days. They tell me and then ask why Angela's Jag is here. I say that she was working on something from home and then took a nap. Not technically a lie, since she is working on their half-sibling. But, yes, I am going to find it very hard to keep this secret. I wish Matty were here to help me share the burden.


	9. Couple Trouble

"So," I say, as we snuggle my first night back for Spring Break, "you want to proceed with the baby-making?" She's been off the Pill for almost three months and so she's probably fertile, or getting there. A March conception would give us a Christmas baby, which would be nice, although of course we'd have to make sure that the kid doesn't feel overshadowed and still gets separate presents every December.

I asked her a couple weeks ago how it went at the gynecologist, and she said she was healthy and conception would probably not be a problem. I figure we've got over a week to try now, and of course once I'm back for good in May, we can really make an effort. And, yeah, it'll be a hell of a lot of fun trying.

To my surprise, she sits up and says, "Tony, we need to talk."

Oh, great. Maybe she's changed her mind about the baby. Maybe it's too busy a time with the agency, or she feels that this is something we should postpone further, till I'm back for good. Or maybe she doesn't even want a baby anymore. I don't know how I'd feel about that. Well, disappointed of course, but I guess I could live with it. We already have two great kids.

"Is it, is it about the baby?" Maybe this is about something else entirely. Her agency? My job? Or maybe one of the kids, likely Sam, has done something Angela didn't want to tell me about over the phone.

"Yes. You won't be able to get me pregnant tonight."

My eyes fill with tears. Oh my God, Angela's infertile and she didn't want to tell me before! Maybe she was afraid I wouldn't love her anymore, which is crazy. I mean, yes, I want a baby with her, but mostly I want her. I don't know what to say, how to comfort her. But at least she's finally telling me.

Before I can find the words, she continues, "Because you already got me pregnant."

I stare at her. That was quick! It's only been a month since Presidents' Weekend. And she knows already? Marie didn't know that fast, but then she was younger and had never been pregnant before. Also, Angela and I weren't even sure if she was fertile yet on my last visit. I wonder if we did make the baby in the borrowed '67 Chevy. Well, it wouldn't be the first kid with a conception like that, although probably not many '80s babies can make that claim.

"So it'll be a November baby," I recalculate.

"Um, no, a September baby."

"September? But that was February."

"No, Tony, I got pregnant in December."

"But that's impossible!" She went off the Pill after we had sex for the last time in awhile, when Pop died and I was too sad for sex. And I sincerely doubt that she cheated on me. If she did, this is an awful way to tell me.

"Not impossible, just not common. The Pill has a very low failure rate. But this time it failed."

I have never been so happy about failure. Wow, she's pregnant! And it happened before Pop died!

I throw my arms around her and pull her back down onto the bed beside me. "Baby, Baby, we're gonna have a baby!" I kiss all over her face and her hair.

"Yes, Love, we are," she murmurs in my ear.

I want to shout about it, but we've stayed in whispers all this time, not wanting to wake the kids. Wow, the kids, I can't wait to tell them! "Honey, let's wake up the kids and tell them!"

"I think it can wait till morning, Tony." She sounds amused, although I mean it.

"And Mona! What's she going to say? She'll be happy, right? I mean, she'll tease us but she'll be excited underneath. Damn, I wish Pop had lived to see this! Can we go over to Mona's apartment?"

"Mother already knows, Tony," she says quietly.

I pull back and stare at her again. "You told Mona before you told me?"

"She's my mother."  
"I'm your husband!"

"I wanted to wait till I could tell you in person."  
"Angela, how long have you known?"

"Since my appointment," she says very faintly.

I again struggle not to yell. "On the 29th?"

"Yes."

"You could've called me. If it wasn't too much trouble." I can't keep the angry sarcasm out of my voice.

"I know. It's just."

"It's just what?"

"I was afraid you'd quit your job and book the next flight out."

"You're damn right I would. Hell, now I'll have to wait till the dean gets back from his fishing trip before I can give my notice."

"Tony, I don't want you to quit. I want you to stay in Indiana."  
"But, Angela, you're pregnant!"

"The baby isn't due till September. You'll be back long before then. And I want you to finish the full year so it can help you find your next job."

"Don't you think that's my decision to make?"

"Tony, I'm trying to do what's right for this family."

"When did this family become a one-woman dictatorship? First you send me away when my dad dies, and now you don't want me around while you're pregnant."

She tears up. "Tony, of course I want you around. But I also have to look at our future."

"Angela, how do you know that's what's best for us? Maybe it'll be better for all of us if I stay, if I'm with you for the next two months."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so am I." I gather up a pillow and a blanket.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"Tony."

"Goodnight, Angela."

She doesn't follow me. She just cries into her pillow. I feel like a rat, but this isn't my fault. Jesus, how can she just make these arbitrary decisions? Not telling me she's pregnant and then banishing me back to South Bend.

I go downstairs and try to get comfortable on the couch. But I can't sleep. Dammit, I was so happy about the baby! Our baby. It's half my baby! OK, yeah, she's doing the hard part of it, but I want to be there to make it easier on her. And she's just pushing me away.

OK, yeah, Waller wouldn't be thrilled if I ran out on them, but they would understand. Hell, the dean was surprised I didn't take more time off to mourn my father.

I don't know what to do. I mean, I could just quit, but then what? Be here when Angela doesn't want me around? Have her look at me like I threw my career away? This isn't like when my shoulder was injured and I had to give up baseball. I had no choice then. I have a choice now, and neither option seems like it'll work.

I close my eyes. I'll at least rest.

After awhile, I hear faint footsteps. Probably one of the kids getting a midnight snack. I should scold him or her but I don't feel like it.

Then I hear Angela say, "Tony, I'm sorry."

I still don't say anything. I don't know if I'm ready to forgive. And it seems like she always apologizes and gets her way anyway.

She comes over and sits on the couch. "Tony, I want you to do what you think is best. You're right. It's your life. And you have done nine months at Waller, so you're still going to be better off than you were last year."

I pull her down onto the couch and we snuggle. I kiss her forehead but I still don't say anything.

"I miss you terribly when you're away. I missed you when you played for the Cardinals. I miss you every time you go back to Indiana. But I feel like that's part of the deal we made when we got married. That we'd both try to live up to our potential, and we'd support each other in that. So I feel like I have to let you go if I want to keep you."

I pull her closer and whisper, "I don't like saying goodbye so often. I want to stay here with you and the kids. I feel like our deal was that I'd make a home with you."

"You have, Tony, you have. This is so much more of a home than it was with Michael. Even when you're not here, your presence is."

"Yeah, but my presence can't coach Sam's Little League team, or find bugs for Jonathan's iguana. It can't rub your feet, or make you special meals to help our baby grow."

"I know. We can manage without you but it's not the same."

I swallow before I say, "Tell you what. I'll see how I feel by the end of the Break. If it feels right to go back to South Bend for good, I will. It is only two months and I've made it this far. But if I find I just don't feel right going back, then you have to accept that."

"OK. And thank you."

"Hey, you know you're going to get your way anyhow."

"Not necessarily."

I sit up. "Uh huh. You can be a very persuasive woman, Angela Micelli."

"Me?" She bats her eyelashes.

"Yeah, you." Then I flip her over my shoulder and carry her back to our bedroom. She giggles all the way and I hope we don't wake the kids. What we do for the next hour is as quiet as possible. It's weird to know it won't lead to baby-making, but it is as enjoyable as ever.


	10. The Babysitter

When they sit us down in the living room, we wonder if we're both in trouble. We look at each other. There's no time for a cover story because we don't know what we've done wrong. Well, nothing big. They both look so serious. Jonathan and I have a silent way of communicating, subtle, like we're really related, although it's just that we've grown up together for five and a half years. We signal that we'll bluff our way through this.

Dad coughs and then says, "Kids, we want you to know, well, we're going to have a baby."

We just stare at them. We've both imagined this over the years of course, me since they first got married actually. I mean, that's what married people do, right, have babies? Yeah, they've got us but Dad is Italian and Catholic. I think he would've had more kids with Mom if he hadn't been on the road so much, and if Mom hadn't got sick. And it makes sense that he and Angela would want a kid that really belongs to both of them. (Yes, they love us both, and we love them, but it's not the same thing.)

Jonathan and I have talked about it a lot of course, when they'll have a baby, if it'll be a boy or a girl, or if it'll be more than one. But when I'd ask them about it, they'd always say it wasn't a good time. So why are they having one when Dad mostly lives in Indiana?

They're looking at us, waiting for us to say something, but I can't think of anything to say. I don't know how I feel. Am I happy, jealous, what? Surprised definitely.

Then Jonathan asks, "So does this mean you two finally had sex?"

I can't help it. I laugh.

"Uh, no, Sweetheart, Tony and I, um, have had sex before."

"But sex makes babies, right?"

Angela looks at Tony, like she can't handle this.

"Hey, Pal, what do you say we take your iguana to the park?"

"OK!"

It's been raining a lot but it's sunny today. There will probably be lots of bugs in the park for the iguana to eat. But I know and Angela knows that Dad is going to have another birds and the bees talk with Jonathan, who I guess didn't quite get it the last time Dad tried to explain. Well, he's only eight and, even though he knows a lot about science, he's still kind of innocent about things like this.

"Thank you, Tony," Angela says and kisses him.

"I'm gonna get a snack," I say.

They look at each other, and I know that that means that Angela will talk with me while Dad talks to Jonathan. There are times when it's easier for them each to talk to their own kid, but other times it's the two girls and the two guys. I don't know how it works in normal families. But normal families don't have a Mona.

"Hey, Sam, how's it going?" She's raiding our refrigerator and cupboards, or "shopping" as she likes to call it. She has a kitchen in her apartment over the garage, but I don't know if she ever uses it. She doesn't like to cook and has sometimes had servants. Angela was the same, but then she learned to cook when we were all living in Indiana.

I liked Indiana but I missed home, not just Connecticut but Brooklyn, which we still visit sometimes. I guess I would've made new friends in South Bend if we'd stayed, but not like my best friend Marci. Wow, what is Marci going to say when I tell her? I guess I can tell her, unless we're not supposed to say anything outside the family yet. She told me that her dad has a girlfriend but she hasn't met her yet. He goes on dates although he pretends he's meeting friends. But he dresses nice and puts on aftershave, so Marci knows better.

Dad used to do that in the months between Mom dying and him moving us in with Angela. I mean when he was home from being on the road from the Cards. I was very glad he ended up with Angela, even if it meant leaving Brooklyn. And now I've been here almost half my life.

"It's OK."

"Want some Oreos?" Mona holds out the bag that she almost walked out with.

I nod. I take one and bite right into it. She likes to open the Oreo and eat the filling before the cookie parts. We "toast" our cookies before we eat them, like toasting drinks.

"Did you know Dad and Angela are going to have a baby?"

"I might've heard a rumor to that effect."

"So what do you think?"  
"Well, you know I hate children."

She always makes me smile. "Yeah, I know."  
"So what do you think about it?"

"It's good. I think. I'm just very surprised. And I hope they don't make me do all the babysitting."

"Me neither."

She still sits for me and Jonathan, even though I'm going to be a teenager in a year and a half. But I was thinking later on, when the baby isn't a baby anymore.

Then Angela comes in and Mona holds out the bag of Oreos to her. Angela looks like she wants them but shouldn't. I know she used to be fat when she was younger, although she's skinny now. Well, I guess she won't be skinny for awhile. I wonder when she'll start to look pregnant. And I wonder when she got pregnant. But you can't ask things like that! Well, Mona could, but I can't.

"Dear, you're entitled now."

Angela nods and takes an Oreo. She twists it open carefully then scrapes the filling off with her fingernail. She never seems to mess up her manicure when she does it. She eats each cookie half when she's scraped off and eaten all the filling on that side.

"I'm happy about the baby," I say after we've all gone through a few more Oreos. "Just surprised."  
"Aren't we all?" Mona says, which makes me wonder if it's what I heard my friend Bonnie's older sister say is an "accident," where you don't plan to have a baby and it just happens.

Angela gives Mona an annoyed look, then turns to me and says, "It'll all work out, you'll see."

"Is Dad going back to Indiana?" He's got two months left teaching at the college there.

She sighs. "We haven't decided."

Hm. I'm not sure what to ask, since I'm not a grown-up and maybe this stuff isn't my business. But it is my family, right? It affects me. "Angela," I say, but both women look at me. I wait and then I continue. "I know that you don't have a baby every time you have sex but how do you keep from having babies?"

Angela looks at Mona, who says, "Gee, look at the time! I've got to get these groceries home." I know that Angela is going to let Mona take all that food in order to have her gone while we talk about sex.

After Mona leaves, Angela says, "Do you remember when we talked about periods?"

I nod. "So does it only happen when it's the right time for the egg?" It's still weird to think of all those eggs inside me, tiny little eggs, smaller than hummingbird eggs. Someday they'll come out of me, one a month.

"Yes, that's part of it. But there are also ways that women can keep the sperm from reaching the egg. That's called birth control or contraception."

I've heard of that, like on _Donahue_ and some of the soap operas I watch when I'm home from school with a cold or something. But I still don't really understand it. "So do you use birth control?"

"Yes, I do. But it doesn't always work."

"So you don't want this baby?"

"No, Sweetheart, I do, I really do. And so does your father. It's just a little earlier than we planned."

"But you've been together a long time."

She sighs. "Yes, we have. But we were waiting till life was more settled."

"That might be forever."

She laughs. "Yes, it might." She gives me a hug.

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know. I would be glad to get either one."

"I think I would like a little sister, but I'm going to be a whole generation older than her!"

She laughs again, though I'm not trying to be funny. "Well, that will matter less as you both get older."

I nod. "I'll be the grown-up sophisticated sister with all the boyfriends and the exciting career and she'll look up to me."

She smiles. "Right."

"That would be nice. But I guess another brother would be OK." Well, Jonathan is my stepbrother and this would be my, I guess, half-brother. "I'll teach them to play sports either way, boy or girl."  
"Good."

"Are you, are you and Dad glad you're finally getting a kid together?"

"Oh, Darling, yes, but not like that. We both love you and Jonathan very much. But I never knew you as a baby. This time I get to start from the beginning."

I pull away. "Yeah."

She puts her hands on my shoulders, looks into my eyes, and says, "But you will always be the oldest. You will be my first daughter and I couldn't manage this without you."  
"So you do expect me to babysit!" Well, I guess it would be OK if I got paid.

She laughs. "Not right away. But maybe when you're in high school. And in the meantime I just need you to be Sam for me, because that's very important."

"OK." I can handle that. Then I laugh.

"What?"

"Poor Dad! He has to find bugs for the iguana and explain birth control!"

She laughs, too, and then we eat some more Oreos.


	11. Did You Ever Have to Make Up Your Mind?

"Tony, what's wrong?" He's been distracted all evening, although still affectionate with me and the kids.

He sighs. "Well, I may as well tell you. Waller wants to extend my contract."

"Oh."  
"For two more years."

"Oh, I see."

"I told them no of course, but I still feel bad about it. For their sakes I mean."

"That is very flattering. You said they were happy with your work, but I had no idea they were this happy."  
"Yeah. It means I'll get a good recommendation when I move on."

I hesitate and then say, "What if you don't move on?"  
"Huh? Give up teaching? Why would I do that?"

"No, I mean, what if you stay at Waller?"  
"Are you crazy? With you having a baby? It's one thing for me to be gone while you're in the second trimester, but there's no way I'm going to be gone after the baby's born!"

"No, I mean." I swallow, because this will mean a sacrifice. "What if the kids and I move back to Indiana as long as they want you at Waller?"

"What about your agency?"

"I could take the time off, stay home with the baby. And if I'm in Indiana, it'll be easier for me to stay away."

I can see he's tempted. It's close to the life he once imagined having with Marie, except without him being on the road playing baseball. He'd be surrounded by his immediate family. And there's a side of me that would like a life like that, something more traditional, at least while the baby is small.

"And what if they keep extending my contract? What if we're out there ten years? Or twenty? Are you going to be happy being a housewife that whole time?"

I don't know how to answer that. Probably not. "Well, I could get a job when the baby goes off to kindergarten."

"Uh huh. And what? Throw away the business you've been building up all these years?"

He's right. It's just I don't want him to regret turning this down. "What if another job this good doesn't come along for a long time?"

"I don't care. It's more important to me to be with you and the kids, but here, at home. I'm finishing out the year because it's what you wanted and it did seem fairest to Waller."

"But, Tony—"

"Besides, what about the kids? It's not fair to uproot them like that."

"They'd adjust. Children can adjust to anything."  
"Yes, they can, but I don't want them to. Dammit, Angela, don't you think we've had enough upheaval in our lives?"

"I'm sorry, Tony," I say quietly.

"Baby, look, I know you mean well but we're supposed to be a team."

I nod. "Yes."

He shakes his head. "I wish you'd never been married to Michael."

I look at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes I think that was no more of a real marriage than your marriage to Brian Thomas."  
"Tony, I had a child with Michael. We bought this house. We built a life together."

"You did and you didn't. He was gone all the time and you've told me he was never really present when he was here. And I've seen it. I've met the guy, talked to him over the years. And he wasn't interested in being part of a team. From the sound of it, this Heather girl, well, she's 'assistant to Michael Bower,' right?"

That's what we heard him say about her "career," that she helps him on his films. It's like she has no separate identity from him. "Yes."

"He doesn't know what it's like to come to decisions together, but sometimes I'm afraid you don't either."

I'm hurt but I can't deny what he's saying. I slowly say, "Michael was usually gone and all the little decisions and some of the big ones, too, were ones I had to make alone. It's not like I could've called him up on a safari or whatever he was up to and said, 'Michael, the plumber's bill is outrageous! What should I do?' "

"Yeah. And I think you've slipped into that while I've been gone. Which I understand. And you've been wonderful, cooking and cleaning and helping the kids with homework. Punishing them when necessary."

I feel like I'm too lenient with the children. It's harder to put my foot down than it is with my staff at the agency. But they're good kids, they really are. Yes, they get into mischief, Sam especially, but nothing serious.

"But I want to be part of all that again."

"Couldn't we be a team in Indiana?"

"We could. But I don't know, I'm just an Eastern Seaboard kind of guy."

I nod. "I guess I'm an Eastern Seaboard kind of girl."

He kisses me on the cheek. "Then why are we trying to be something else?"

I sigh. "I don't know, Tony. I guess I don't know how to relax and just take what life gives me, good or bad."

"Yeah. But, look, in another month I will be back for good. And in four months after that, you'll have the baby." He caresses my stomach. I'm starting to show now, not a lot but some. I haven't yet felt the baby kick. I realize that I'm glad that he'll be here for that, if not the first time, at least one of the first times. And do I really want to uproot myself at a time like this? Shouldn't I stay here where my friends and doctor and mother are?

"You're right. About everything. And I just realized, if we leave for two years or more, what about Mother? She wouldn't want to move to Indiana and we'd all miss her. And she'd miss us." Mother is very unsentimental but I know that the family is as important to her as it is to any of us.

"Yeah," Tony says but as if he's thinking of something else. And then he says, "I think I need to be here to mourn Pop, really mourn him. It's like I've not really felt it being away so much. I need to go back to Brooklyn this summer, see it without him."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"Of course. We've got to show this belly off to everyone."

"Tony!"

Then he scoots down the bed and pushes up my nightgown. He softly kisses my stomach. "Five more months, Angie."

"Yes," I say softly.

"And then we'll meet him or her."

"Yes." I think of how if we all moved to Indiana, I'd be cheating Tony out of what would probably be very proud moments, an Italian man showing off his very pregnant and very beloved wife to all his old friends and neighbors. And I also think of how in some ways our lives are just beginning. There's so much that still lies ahead. Raising our children, continuing to build our careers. I still don't know how much time I'll take off for this baby, but it will be easier with his support.

"Angie?"

"Hm?"

"You wanna have more?"

"More what?" I think he means kisses, because he's still kissing my stomach, but closer to my chest.

"More babies."

"Oh, Tony, I don't know. We haven't even had this one yet."

"OK. But that's not a no, is it?"

"No, it's not a no. But don't expect a dozen."

He laughs. "I don't think we have time for a dozen."

I'm not sure if he means before I hit the years when it'll be riskier for me to get pregnant, or if he means hours in the day. "Probably not."

He looks up at me with those magical brown eyes, which can be both bedroomy and puppy-doggish, sometimes at the same moment. "I also want time for us, you and me."

"Oh, Tony, so do I!" Yes, we could have that in Indiana, but I think it would feel like we'd still have our lives on hold in some way. Maybe waiting just another month for him to move back, even if it means temporary unemployment for him, really is the best.

"And I think I'm willing to give up reunions after this weekend."

It's his last visit home. And we've spent enough time for now in talk.


	12. You Can Go Home Again

"Wow, he's a strong kicker!" She gives me that look, so I say, "Or she." But I think it might be a boy. Of course I'm fine either way, but the thing is, Jonathan is a Bower. And I want to pass on the Micelli name. Plus, I'd like to keep the promise to Pop to name a baby after him. We can have a bunch of girls later. Well, one or two. But I want at least one son.

Sam and I have agreed, boy or girl, we want the kid to be an athlete. We're not talking professional but at least more coordinated than the Robinsons. Angela is good at volleyball, swimming, and mini golf. Jonathan is OK at basketball. And that's about it. And as for Mona, well, you can guess what her favorite sport is.

It's so good to be home. It hasn't really sunk in that it's for good. I enjoyed my experience at Waller, I mean the teaching and coaching part. It was nice to see the students make progress. But I could have that anywhere.

I sent out some résumés as soon as I decided not to renew my contract. But I haven't heard anything back yet. So I'm a househusband again, with the main difference from before being that my wife is in her fifth month of pregnancy.

"I've never seen you look more beautiful, Angie," I say, as I stroke her stomach.

"Tony, you don't have to say that just because you're supposed to."

But I mean it. She really is radiant. And the roundedness suits her more than I would've expected. Plus, what could be more beautiful than carrying another life? A life made from love?

We haven't worked out all our issues of course. I think we're always going to disagree about how to do things. But that's OK. At least now we'll be able to talk things out right when they come up, not keep them bottled up inside.

Like, I have mixed feelings about her working right now. Yeah, I know it's her own business and she can't just walk away. (I don't know why she thought she could've given it up and moved to Indiana, but maybe it would've been easier when Manhattan wouldn't have been just a train ride away.) And, yes, I know her doctor said she's healthy enough to keep working into the third trimester. But there's a part of me, househusband or not, that's still the old-fashioned Italian guy from Brooklyn. And that guy, he thinks Angela should be staying home and focusing on her pregnancy.

Also, I guess I want her home while I'm home. It feels like, except for a weekend here and there, we've never really had any time that's just us. Now we'll be back to me sending her off to work and spending the day wishing she'd call in sick. Only this time I won't have the distraction of college or a part-time job. And the kids are getting more independent. I mean, they're still kind of little, but not tiny any more. Heck, Sam's gonna be twelve this summer, which doesn't seem possible.

And Jonathan, well, I'm supposed to take him shopping for a tux this weekend. Michael said basic black is fine, with a white shirt and a black bow tie. Yeah, he could've suggested that we wait till we get out to California and he could've helped Jonathan pick something out, but Michael has given up most of the father-son moments to me. I don't really mind. Even when (if?) Angela and I have a son together, well, Jonathan will always be my oldest boy.

I did feel kind of weird explaining more about sex a couple months ago. Last time, it was more abstract. You know, this is how babies are made in general. This time I had to explain why his mom and I hadn't made a baby before. I obviously didn't go into detail, just generally that you don't get a baby every time.

Pop and I never had conversations like this of course. I did wonder why I was an only child, which was rarer in my neighborhood, especially in the '50s, than it would be now and here. But I would never have come right out and asked Pop. At the time Mom died, I was only seven and I mostly knew what my friends told me about sex, most of it wrong of course. Pop did give me a little speech when I was twelve and had just started dating girls. (He didn't know I'd already had my first kiss months before, miles away, with a WASP thirteen-year-old.) He said, "You're at the age where you're gonna wanna start touching girls. And yourself. Father Marconi wouldn't want me to say this, but right now, you're better off touching yourself."

I don't know what I'll tell Jonathan when he's twelve. And I don't know if I should have a talk with Sam when she turns twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or maybe I'll wait till she's thirty. I've left most of that to Angela, as she's left most of the birds and the bees talks with Jonathan to me. But sometimes I think that when Sam's older, like in high school, I should explain teenage boys to her, because honestly, I don't think Angela can.

She's still so naive in some ways, yes, even at almost 34. Her birthday is tomorrow. I'm going to surprise her with dinner at Le Fleur, the fanciest restaurant in town. Even if I'm unemployed, I have to give my best girl a special night out. And then a special night in.

For my birthday, she threw a surprise party during my April visit, even though my birthday wasn't till the next week. She invited a bunch of my friends from Brooklyn, plus of course our Fairfield friends. She baked a cake and it turned out pretty well, although Mona of course joked about Angela poisoning us all. And although Angela didn't look very pregnant at that point, I still got a lot of good-natured teasing from the guys, married as well as single. (Dennis asked what took me so long to get to the baby-making.) Mrs. Rossini is thrilled of course. Joe, Jr. just got engaged so she's got to wait on grandkids, but she's promised to spoil "Tony, Jr." (She thinks it's going to be a boy, too.)

Anyway, Angela didn't date much in high school and she doesn't know how teenage guys think. I still vividly remember how me and my buddies thought. And I want to protect Sam from that, teach her things like that guys say they'll die if they don't get some. (If that were true, I'd be buried in South Bend.) Yeah, it'll be an embarrassing conversation, but I think a necessary one. Luckily, Sam's still at the age where she just has crushes on celebrities and she thinks most of the boys she knows are gross.

She is excited about Angela's pregnancy though. I think she was surprised at first, but now that she's gotten used to the idea, she likes to make lists of names for the baby. And then she'll talk to her friends and they'll make lists, too, and then they'll vote on them. After awhile, they throw the lists out and start over. I was happy when "Matt" was #1 last week, until I found it was for Matt Dillon. (The teen idol, not the _Gunsmoke_ character.)

Jonathan is more calmly happy about the baby. He jokes that he can boss it around like Sam bosses him around. His main concern was whether he'd have to share a room with the baby, especially if it ends up being a boy. (He'd sort of rather have a brother, but he said, "What difference does it make when it's a baby anyway?")

Angela and I have talked about it and we figure we can turn my old room into a nursery. If we have another kid later, well, we can shuffle the kids around then, depending on when it happens. This is a big house, and part of me wants to fill it with kids, but I understand that that may not be possible with Angela's career. If we stop at three total, I'm OK with that. Even if "Tony, Jr." turns out to be a girl and I never get a son of my blood.

The baby kicks again and I grin. I kiss Angela's stomach. She smiles down at me and strokes my hair. I'm so glad I'm home for good.


	13. Custody

I stare at Michael. You would think that after knowing the man over a decade, he could no longer surprise me, but he's done it again.

"You're kiddin', right?" Tony's surprise is so strong that he slips into his Brooklyn accent, no longer sounding like the polished professor.

"Why would I kid about something like that? And I'm not asking for full custody of course. But now that I'm going to be a married man again, I can really offer Jonathan a home."

I ask, "But what about when you travel?"

"Well, he could go along with me and Heather. It'd be an adventure, and he'd learn a lot, real-life experiences."

"I happen to think Connecticut is real."

Both men look at me. In their different ways, they both think I'm naive and sheltered. With Tony, it brings out a fond protectiveness, but with Michael, it's always seemed to irritate him. Never mind that I was always the practical one, paying the bills and everything.

Then Tony looks at Michael again. "What about Heather? Is she ready to take care of a kid?"

I almost say, "I didn't think she was even old enough to babysit," but I bite my tongue.

Michael says, "She thinks Jonathan is adorable. And, well, it'll be good practice if she and I have a kid."

I stare at him again. Does he honestly think he'll be any better at fatherhood the second time around?

"What? You think you're the only one who can have a kid in their 30s?"

That was not at all what I was thinking. I feel the baby kick just then, and I wonder if he or she senses that Jonathan might be going away.

"Don't you two want any time alone together as a couple?" Tony asks. "I mean, you'll be newlyweds with an eight-year-old hanging around."

I don't point out that Tony and I had a six-year-old and a two-year-old hanging around. Yes, it would've been lovely if we'd had a couple years on our own, much as we love the kids. But how would that have happened? I'd have had to marry Tony by '71, before he married Marie. And he may've felt ready for marriage at 19, but I at 21 had hardly even dated and I was too focused on college and my future career.

And in a funny sort of way, I'm glad we didn't get together when we were younger. I mean other than as Anthony and "Ingrid," and that wasn't exactly a relationship that could've transitioned into our everyday lives. Upper-middle-class, "nice" 13-year-old Connecticut girls did not date 11-year-old but streetwise Brooklyn boys back then, and I doubt it happens too often these days. In the unlikely event that we had tried to make a go of it, I can't see it lasting into adulthood or even into his teens. We had to grow up, and towards each other, for it to work.

Sometimes though, I wonder what would've happened if our paths had crossed later on. Let's say that somehow I'd endured marriage to Michael another five or six years. Maybe I'd be getting divorced now, not necessarily in Vegas. But there are so many ifs that go along with that. Perhaps I'd still be at Wallace and McQuade, since I wouldn't have taken that fateful Florida vacation that indirectly got me fired. Would Tony still be playing baseball or would the shoulder injury have happened anyway?

And how would we have met? Would he being doing an endorsement as an athlete? It's unlikely that we'd have met through mutual friends.

Mother believes in Fate, especially when it comes to me and Tony, so I suppose if it was meant to be, as it seems to have been, then we would've met somehow, somewhere. But it would've been different. For one thing, we wouldn't have been co-parents for five and a half years.

"Well, we'll have newlywed time when he's with you guys in Connecticut," Michael says after a long pause. "And when he's with us, well, that'll probably be easier on you, since you'll just have Sam and the baby to worry about. And Mona of course."

I don't say that we want all the kids together, as a family. I mean, he is Jonathan's father, even if he's seldom acted like it.

"Anyway, think it over."

"Michael, I don't need to think it—" Tony puts his hand on my arm, a gesture I usually make to him, to calm him down. I look down at his hand and then back at Michael. "All right, we'll consider it."

"Thanks, Angela. Tony, I'll see you at the bachelor party."  
"THE WHAT?"  
"I'll explain it to her. Goodnight, Michael."  
" 'Night, Tony. Angela."

"Goodnight, Michael." I wait till he's gone to ask, "Why are you going to my ex-husband's bachelor party?" He knows I don't approve of bachelor parties, and he doesn't even like Michael.

"It's not like it sounds. The best man is throwing it. So think pin the tail on the donkey and other activities that an eight-year-old would plan."  
I laugh. "Oh. That's not so bad. I mean, no one will be dragging Jonathan off to a strip club, will they?"

"Maybe if he was sixteen."

"Tony!"  
"Kidding."

I shake my head and go look out the window. We have a view of the ocean from the living room of our family's suite. It's a very nice hotel, but I wish I was here for another occasion.

Tony comes over and joins me, hugging me from behind. "Remember when we first saw this ocean together?"

Of course I remember. We were on a crazy road trip, in search of my first husband, but really discovering each other. "Yes," I say softly.

"I knew you had a kid of course, but I was mostly thinking about you, trying to figure out what we were to each other, what we could be to each other."

"Yes, it was the same for me."  
"Then we met each other's kids and it became pretty clear that part of what we are to each other was, is, and always will be connected to the kids."

I agree, but I'm not clear where he's going with this. "Tony?"

"Well, maybe Jonathan has to be part of who Michael and Heather are to each other, right from the beginning of their marriage."

"After they come back from their Tahitian honeymoon," I can't help saying. Michael took me to the desert for ours, and I don't mean Palm Springs.

"Well, yeah. But do you see what I mean?"

"I think so."

"Look, Angie, I've seen a lot of broken homes in Brooklyn, now more than when I was growing up. There are dads, and sometimes moms, that see their kids even less than Michael does. If he wants to really change and make an effort to spend time with Jonathan, maybe we shouldn't discourage him."

"But does he want to change? I mean really. Michael can be very enthusiastic about something and then drop it when it gets too boring, or too complicated."

"Well, if that's the case, then I guess it won't be a problem for very long."

"Yes, except that Jonathan will be hurt when he's treated like an old shoe."

"I know," Tony says quietly.

We both know that Michael has disappointed Jonathan in the past, like promising to visit but ending up going out of the country. What would it be like if Jonathan's actually living with Michael part time and Michael still runs off? He may say he'll take Jonathan along, but what if he doesn't want to? Or what if Jonathan would miss too much school?

"Look, maybe he'll change his mind before this goes anywhere."

"Oh? Are you going to sabotage his bachelor party?"

"Hm, tempting."  
"Tony," I mildly scold, although I wouldn't totally mind if he did.

"Come on, let's look in on the kids and then go to bed."  
"OK."

We check on Sam first. The poor girl got sunburned today, greedy for the California sunshine. She's asleep with no blankets on, in as comfortable a position as she could manage. Tony and I put aloe vera on her when we all came back to the hotel, and she does seem to be in less pain, although still lobster-red. She was worried she won't be able to wear her sleeveless dress, but I have a shawl I can loan her if the burn hasn't faded by the wedding, the day after tomorrow. (I guess tomorrow night will be the bachelor party.)

Then we look in on Jonathan. Our little boy with the missing teeth, the cute blond bowl-cut, and the big brown eyes. The four of us all have brown eyes, coincidentally. Even though no pair looks much like another pair, it makes me feel like we look a little bit more like a family. Of course his eyes are shut right now, as he's sleeping.

"Tony, I don't want to let him go," I whisper.

"I know. I don't either," he whispers back. "But we might have to, for at least a little while."

"Mommy? Tony?"

"I'm sorry, did we wake you, Darling?"

"No, I was awake anyway."

"What's up, Pal-o-Mine?"

"I'm nervous about all the best man stuff. The bachelor party and the wedding toast and everything."

"The wedding toast?" I say.

"Yes, Sam says that the best man has to give a speech at the party after the wedding."

"Yeah, that's the reception. But you know, I think you'll do at least as good a job as Bobby Governale did at my first wedding."

"Oh, what did he do?" Jonathan and I both ask. We love Tony's "old neighborhood" stories.

"Well, you know, Bobby is not a real talkative guy. He's kind of like you, Jonathan, a man of a few but very important words. So he gets up there and everyone's wondering, what's he gonna say? I mean, if it was Mrs. Rossini, no problem. She'd have filibustered like a Senator."

"Filibustered?"

"Made a long, long speech, for hours. But Bobby, who knows? So he stands up, raises his glass, and says, 'Tony. Marie. Forever.' And sits back down. Everyone just stares at him, and then they applaud, because what else is there to say?"

The story is sweet and funny but also sad, because of course Tony and Marie didn't get forever. He and I have had almost as long together as they had, and it feels like we're just getting started.

Jonathan is only eight and doesn't notice this aspect. Instead he asks, "Do you think I could give a really short speech like that?"

"You can say whatever you want, as long as it's nice."  
"OK." He looks reassured. Poor little boy, so much pressure on him, from all directions, including from me sometimes. His grades are always better than Sam's. It's not that I don't push her, too, but less because she's not fully my own child. Tony is more easy-going about academics. He wants the kids to do well in school of course, but he's more concerned with them being well-rounded, which is a different sort of pressure.

I tuck Jonathan in and kiss his forehead. "Get some sleep, Sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Mom." Like Sam at that age, he'll go back and forth. Sometimes Tony was "Dad" and sometimes he was "Daddy." And there are now "Mom" and "Mommy" moments. I seem to have gone from "Mummy" to "Mother" in one step, in my hurry to seem mature. In some ways Mother and I are close, but there has always been a barrier between us. I realize suddenly that the baby will be calling me "Mama" in about fifteen months. That will be wonderful! But I'll still miss this little boy.

"Sleep well, Buddy," Tony says, then kisses Jonathan's cheek.

We leave quietly and go to our bedroom. We don't talk as we change into our nightclothes. I find it hard to get into a comfortable position, now that I'm in the sixth month, and it's only going to get harder from here on out. Tony understands this, and when we cuddle he shapes himself to fit me as best he can. It does help to feel his strong arms around me, the warmth of his body.

I think if we were back home, we might make love tonight, but I'm too distracted by the custody thing. "I'm sorry, Tony."

"It's OK, Baby. We'll just hold each other tonight."

"Thank you." I sigh. "You're finally back with the family, and now Michael wants to tear us apart." It sounds melodramatic, but that's how it feels. I want to see all of them every day, Mother, too. (There was no point in trying to look in on her. She's out partying.)

"That's not why he's doing it. But I know that's how it feels."

"I love you, Tony." Will anyone ever understand me as well as he does?

"I love you, Sweet Angie."

I slowly fall asleep in his arms, our baby rolling over more easily than I can.


	14. Heather Can Wait

This is almost the most fun I've ever had, so why do I feel like this? All mixed up and sick inside. And I haven't eaten the baby keeches or anything that they're going to have at the reception later.

I like hanging out with Daddy and his girlfriend Heather. She has a convertible and she's very pretty. Yes, Mom is pretty, too, but like a mom. And Heather is nice to me. I mean, Mom is super nice but moms are supposed to be nice.

Dad always thinks of fun stuff for us to do, like going to the beach or Disneyland. (I went to Disney World when I was three, but I don't really remember it.) I've always liked when he visits, although he's very busy making doctor-mentaries, so he can't visit as much as I want. He asked me yesterday if I'd like us to spend more time together, so of course I said yes. I was afraid when I first heard that he was getting married that I would see him even less. Like what if Heather was a wicked stepmother who hated kids?

But then Dad asked if I would like to live with him and Heather. I said, "But I live with Mom, Tony, Sam, Grandma, Grover, and Iggy."

"I know, Little Tiger, but I mean some of the time. Like a few months a year in each place. Wouldn't that be fun?"

I don't know if it would be fun. I mean, it would be fun to go on the airplane, even if I throw up again. And I would like to see him more. But live with him? All my stuff, like my books and my iguana, are in Connecticut. I could maybe take some books on the plane, but not Iggy.

And I would miss Mommy, Tony, Sam, Grandma, and Grover. Yes, I miss Daddy sometimes, but I'm used to missing him.

"What about everyone in Connecticut?" I asked Daddy.

"Well, they're going to be pretty busy with the new baby soon, Sport."

I hadn't thought of that. I mean, I know babies take a lot of work. I remember when my friend David's sister was a baby, and Tony helped take care of her. But he still had time for me. Maybe it's different when the baby lives in your house.

"Yeah, I guess so. Are you and Heather going to have a baby?"

He seemed surprised by my question. "Uh, not for awhile. Besides, we'll have you, and you're all the kid we need."

Back home, I'm one of two kids, but it'll be three soon. I wonder if Sam will feel like they don't have time for her, or if she won't care because she's older and a girl.

Daddy and I talked after the bachelor party, when he tucked me in. I think everyone had fun at the party. I got a movie about stags and everything. Tony helped me.

Tony is more like a dad than Heather is like a mom, but he's older than Heather and he has taken care of me for a very long time, even before he married Mom. Also, he was a dad before I was born because of Sam. And he just understands kids. He knows how we think, and he can act like a big kid, but he can also be wise or tough like a dad when he has to be. And he is the best cook ever. Dad and Heather can't cook, but Dad says we could eat out a lot. I like restaurants when it's a special occasion but there aren't extra forks. I don't know if I'd want to eat in them all the time though. Mom can cook some, not fancy stuff, but things Sam and I like to eat. I guess the baby will eat stuff out of jars, because that's what they do on TV.

(My friend Steven says moms can feed babies with their boobies, but I don't see how that would work. I think he made that up.)

Tony has talked to me about all the best-man stuff I have to do. I wouldn't be able to do this without him. I mean, I guess I could've asked my dad, but he probably figured I should just know. Plus, he's the groom, and he has his own stuff to worry about. Anyway, it's helped to talk to Tony but I'm still nervous.

And now the wedding is about to start. I'm wearing a tucks. Mom says I look very grown-up and handsome. I feel silly, but it's what you wear at a wedding, if you're part of it I mean, not just watching it like Mom, Tony, Sam, and Grandma. (Grover and Iggy are staying with the Witteners.) Sam is wearing Mom's shawl over her sleeveless dress because she has a bad sunburn. I ran around in the sun, but I didn't lie down on the sand like a piece of bacon. Girls are so weird sometimes, even tomboys like Sam.

I would miss her, too, though. Sometimes she gets annoyed with me, like a real sister, but we also have lots of fun together. And she beats up older kids who beat me up. Not too often, because Tony and especially Mom don't like her to fight, but just enough to be a warning.

I wonder if she knows I might go live with Dad. I haven't really had a chance to talk to her.

But I did talk to Grandma this morning. She let me have some of her strawberry yogurt when she had breakfast in bed, because she was out late, like usual. I told her everything I was feeling. I couldn't tell Mom or Tony because they might feel bad that they want me to leave because of the baby.

Grandma didn't say much, just listened. Then at the end she said, "Jonathan, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"But, Grandma, I don't know what I want to do."

"I think when the right moment comes, you'll know." Sometimes she can be mysterious like that, although usually she says exactly what she thinks, even if Mom and Tony don't want her to.

I thanked her for listening and for the yogurt. I never had it before. It's supposed to be good for you, even though it has lots of bacteria. I'd already eaten at the breakfast buffet downstairs with everybody else, but yogurt doesn't fill you up. People eat it when they're on diets.

Then Grandma said she would buy me some frozen yogurt. I don't think they have it in Connecticut yet, but they have it in California and maybe New York. It's not as healthy as regular yogurt but it's healthier than ice cream. She took me to a "frogurt" store a couple blocks from the hotel to get mint mango. She said there was time before the wedding and there was, but I had to change into my tucks as soon as I got back.

I wonder if I shouldn't have had so much yogurt. Maybe that's why I feel sick, and not because of all the things I have to think about.

Daddy looks at me and says, "Well, Little Tiger, ready to stand up for me?"

That doesn't mean really standing, and it's not like "stand-up comics." It means that I'm here to be my dad's best man, like a best friend. "Daddy, I'm feeling really scared and nervous."

"You're a Bower, Son, and Bowers don't get scared."

I've seen Mom get scared, but maybe it's different if you're a lady and not born a Bower. "But my stomach hurts, too."

"Come on, Jonathan, this is my big day and I'm counting on you."  
"I'm sorry, Dad." I will do my best to be the best best man I can. I will hand him the ring at the right moment and try not to think about how I feel.

The wedding march starts. Sam told me that usually the bride walks down the aisle with her father, but Heather's father is dead. Dad and Heather are going to walk down together, and then I'll go after them. She comes over and she looks even prettier in her white dress. She smiles at me. I will try to do a good job for her, too.

They walk over to the minister and then I wait a moment and follow them. I try not to think about my stomach or anything else but the wedding. But by the time I get over to them, I feel like I'm going to throw up. I try to tell Daddy, but he says, "Not now, Jonathan. After the wedding."

I don't think I can wait that long. Suddenly I feel all the yogurt coming up. I try to keep my mouth shut but I can't. And then it all comes out, onto Heather's shoes!

Heather screams and everyone at the wedding is surprised. I feel bad, I mean my feelings, too, but mostly I want to lie down and have Mommy stroke my hair and give me ginger ale.

"Angela, do something!" Daddy yells.

Then Mommy is there next to me, and she leads me away. She takes me back to our hotel sweet. She says, "It's going to be OK, Darling," and part of me feels like it can't be because I ruined Daddy's wedding, and part of me feels like it will because she's here for me, like she always is.

But what will happen when I have to live with Daddy instead of her sometimes? Maybe he'll be mad at me, and maybe Heather will hate me now. Mommy and Tony always love me and they hardly ever get mad at me. Or at least that's what I thought until I found out about them sending me away.

Mommy has me lie down with a damp washcloth on my forehead and she orders ginger ale from room service. She strokes my hair while we wait. I want to ask her if I can stay with her and Tony in Connecticut, but I know it will help them to have me gone when they have the baby to take care of.

When the ginger ale comes, Mommy has me sit up and drink it. I feel better now. She says I should nap, but I don't know if I can. I have too much to think about.

After she leaves the room and shuts the door, I hear Tony come back. I know it's wrong to eavesdrop, but I can't help it. I put the empty glass to my ear against the door and I can hear Mom and Tony talking.

"How's he feeling?"

"Better I think. That poor little boy! He made himself sick trying to please his father."

"Uh, I think Mona plying him with yogurt may've had something to do with that."

"Why would Mother—?" She stops talking because someone knocks. Then she says, "Michael."

"Hi, Angela. How's Jonathan?"

"Better, but you're going to have to get married without him."

"Yeah, I figured. Listen, I've been thinking. Jonathan is a great kid, but I just don't think Heather and I are ready to take him on. He can visit us of course, but maybe he's better off living with you."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yeah, I do. Uh, we'll work out the details later, but I've got to get back downstairs. You two coming?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in a minute," Tony says.

"Oh, Michael, here's the ring." I gave it to Mom while we were waiting for the ginger ale.

"Thanks. I'll need this."

After they all say goodbye, I hear Mommy say, "Tony, we get to keep our little boy!"

"I know! It's going to be great, the whole family together forever!"

So they do want me, even with the new baby. But Daddy and Heather don't, or not very much. I wish Daddy loved me more, but at least Mommy and Tony do. And I think Grandma does, too, although she shows it in sneaky ways.


	15. Wedding Bells?

"You're getting married?" I stare at them. I knew they were dating but I didn't expect this, at least not so soon. And we're still recovering from Michael's wedding.

"Aren't you rushing things?"

They both laugh at Angela, and I know what they're thinking. She married me the same day she divorced Michael. But that wasn't something we planned. It just happened.

Blushing, she says, "Well, that was rushing it, too."

"Look, I know my divorce just became final but Paul and I have known each other for years. And we're not getting married tomorrow."

"Yes, we're going to wait a few months."

"To let the children get used to the idea?" Angela asks.

"Yes, and so that my matron of honor has time to recover from childbirth."

"Me?"

"Yeah, if Wendy doesn't kill me for not picking her."

"Oh, Isabel, I'd love to!" She gives her a big hug.

"Hey, Tony, how about being my best man?"  
"Me?"  
"Yeah, even though you won't sell me your rare baseball card."

It's become a half-joke between us, that he wants my card of myself with the Cardinals. And there've been times I've been tempted, like when the agency has gone through rough spots or now that I'm between jobs. (I've got another interview next week, at the kids' school.) But I feel like the card is my history and I want to pass it on. I'd always planned to give it to Sam when I die, but I'll have to leave some other mementos to Jonathan and the new baby. There's the Mets-signed baseball and my jersey. I don't know. I'm only 32 and I don't want to make out my will any time soon, even though I know from my own life that people can die far too young.

"Well, you never know, I might come out of retirement someday," I joke back. I know I'll never play pro ball again. And I'm OK with that.

Underneath the jokes and the concern, we are happy for them, and honored to be asked to stand up for them. Our roles at Michael's wedding were background support for the best man, although poor Jonathan ended up not making it through the ceremony. (Nervousness and yogurt, a bad combination.)

"Are you going to have Marci be a flower girl or a bridesmaid?" Angela asks. "After all, she's eleven, not really a little girl or an adolescent."

I remember Marci and Sam as flower girls at our wedding, but that was almost six years ago. I still think of Sam as a little girl, but, yeah, she's not as little as she was then.

Isabel looks at Paul, who looks at me and says, "Uh, Tony, can I talk to you in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, sure." We go in and I offer him lemonade since it's kind of hot out. I pour myself a glass, too, and sit down. "What's up?"

"This is a big step, Tony."

Uh oh, does he have cold feet? Does he want me to talk him back into this? "Well, yeah, marriage is big."

"It's not just that. Well, you know what it's like, being widowed, not looking for someone but finding her anyway, falling in love, and getting married again."  
"Yeah, of course. But I think you and Isabel are a good match. You obviously have a lot in common."

"Well, thank you. But that's not what I'm worried about. I've got to admit I'm nervous about this whole blending-families thing."

"Oh. Yeah, well, Angela and I were lucky. The kids were so little when we got together and they hit it off right away. And Jonathan and I were buddies from the first moment. And I think Sam was looking for a mother figure like Angela. But it wouldn't necessarily have worked out. At least Isabel's kids have known you all their lives and Marci has known Isabel."

"That doesn't make it any easier. In fact, it makes it harder."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when Sam met Angela and when Jonathan met you, you two were already married."

"Well, yeah, but the kids didn't know that." They still don't, because how could we tell them, even now?

"OK, but you were starting fresh. Isabel's kids are dealing with the divorce and of course their father is very much around."

"Unlike Michael Bower."

"Right. And Marci is over her mom's death to some degree, but I don't know how she'll feel about having a stepmother. Especially at the 'not a little girl or a teenager' stage."

"Right."

"And Isabel's kids know me as Dr. Ferguson, and as Marci's dad. And it's similar for Marci with Isabel, only more so because she was married until very recently."

"Yeah, OK." I'm not quite sure where he's going with this.

"Except for Amber, our kids are older than your two were. Kids are creatures of habit. And it's hard to change their perceptions."

"Oh, I see. But how are they dealing with you two dating?"

"Amber is confused, and vocal about it. Marci and David are, well, your kids are the same ages so you know. They're starting to not say everything they're thinking."

"Yeah." I got the feeling that there was stuff going on with Jonathan in California, even beyond what we talked about.

"I think her kids like me, and Marci seems to like her. And I love the idea of having a sort of son, and a new little girl. And Isabel envies the mother-daughter things that Angela gets to do with Sam, things that Amber is still too little for. We want to merge our families, even if Ben will be more in the picture than Michael has been for you guys."

"What does Ben think of all this?"

He sighs. "He blames it all on Isabel going to medical school."

I manage not to laugh. And it's not that Ben is entirely wrong. I mean, if she hadn't gone, then maybe Paul and Isabel wouldn't have had so much in common. Ben didn't want her to go anyway, not because of Paul, but because he didn't want a wife with a high-powered career. It wasn't something I was looking for myself, but Angie already was a success when we met, so it's not like I can say she's not the woman I married. But I think Isabel would've been unhappy if she didn't follow her dream.

Paul continues, "He and I get along OK, considering. It's more his issues with Isabel. To be honest, I'm surprised their marriage lasted as long as it did. My wife, my first wife, used to say she thought they'd get divorced soon, and that was three years ago."

I wonder what it would've been like if Angela had stayed with Michael this long. Well, we wouldn't have gotten married in Vegas probably. Assuming I'd still had my shoulder injury, I wouldn't have been partying with my teammates at the end of a recent season. I like to think our paths still would've crossed somehow.

"Yeah, when I see Angela with Michael, I'm amazed that they ever got together, or stayed together long enough to have Jonathan."

"Exactly. Anyway, this is all a lot to take on. I'm crazy about Isabel, and I think she's worth it, but I wondered if you had any advice."

I drink some lemonade before I answer. "I guess just be up front with everyone. I mean, we couldn't tell the kids about our marriage in Vegas, especially since at first we didn't know if we'd get it annulled or not. And they were so little. You guys have the advantage that you can include the kids in this more, and there's no hurry on getting married, right?"

"Well, no, although I do miss having a wife."

I sort of know what that's like. I mean, I didn't have much of a gap between marriages, but when I was on the road, and then when I was living in Indiana on my own, I missed the dailiness of marriage. Not just the sex but all the little moments that Angie and I share. And now of course she's pregnant (seventh month), so there's that experience to share. Well, not that I'm going around saying, "We're pregnant," but still I share as much of it as I can, and try to make things easier on her. (And, yes, she's still working. Hopefully she'll stop by the time I get a new job.)

"Not that I'm getting married just to be married. But you know."  
"Yeah, I know."

"It's different for Isabel. I mean, she just got out of a bad marriage and she worries that our marriage might be a failure, too."

I know Angela has gone through that, even though we've mostly been happy together. Even the rough times, like when she was trying to make the big decisions on her own, are probably to do with the scars of her earlier marriage.

"I tell her, look at you two. You're happy. And so are the kids."

"Yeah, we are. But it's not perfect."  
"What marriage is perfect?"

Well, he's got me there. "Angela would say her parents' marriage, but Mona says Angela's dad was a workaholic."

"Yeah, I figured Angela didn't get her drive from Mona." We both laugh and then he says, "Hey, thanks for talking with me. I feel better about things."

In a funny sort of way, so do I, although he's given me a lot to think about.


	16. Samantha's Growing Up

"Tony, I'm thinking of buying a bra tomorrow."

"Yeah? You mean like a nursing bra? Or something sexy for when you're done with nursing?"

I haven't decided whether or not I'll nurse. I didn't with Jonathan and sometimes I wonder what I missed out on. But I haven't even decided how much time I'm taking off from my agency. I have more flexibility with my own business, but there's also more responsibility.

Part of me wants to stay home with the baby, especially since Tony got the job at Fairfield Elementary. Fifth grade, to the kids' relief, so he won't be teaching Sam, and Jonathan will have two years to get used to the idea of Tony as his teacher, assuming Tony will still have that grade then. They do feel funny about him teaching at their school anyway, although he has promised not to embarrass them, much. He's excited about teaching younger kids. The pay won't be as high as at the college level of course, but he likes the idea of being more of an influence.

"I vote for black and skimpy," he says, "if it's the sexy one."  
"No, Tony, it's not for me. It's for Sam."

His eyes immediately shift from dark and bedroomy to "stern Italian fatherly." "Sam?! Why the hell would Sam need a bra?"

"Tony, she's turning twelve next week. And you said that she was having trouble tucking the ball into her chest when you two were playing catch earlier."

"Yeah, but she's just a little girl!"

I've always known this moment wouldn't be easy. "She's growing up, Tony."

He shakes his head. "I don't like it."

"She's still your daughter. She loves sports. But she's becoming a young woman."

"At twelve?!"

"I got my first training bra at twelve."

He coughs and I know exactly what he's thinking. He saw me at thirteen, when I was a beanpole—tall, skinny, and flat-chested. (A year or two later, I was taller, slightly more developed, and very fat.)

"Her friends Marci and Bonnie have bras and they're only eleven."

"Bonnie? She looks like she's nine. She needs a bra about as much as Jonathan does."

"Well, I don't want Sam to feel left out."

"What? She should get undergarments because of peer pressure?"

"Not just that. She's developing and—"

"God, Angela, can we please not talk about my daughter's figure? Or her friends' figures?"

"Darling, I understand that this subject makes you uncomfortable. I'll probably feel the same when you go to buy Jonathan, um."

"A jock strap?"  
Ugh! I do not need that visual. "Thank you. But Mother and I have talked about it—"

"You talked with Mona about this before you talked to me?"

"Well, she is sort of the expert on undergarments."

He snorts. "Yeah."

"And Mother and I thought it would be nice to take Sam on a shopping trip, as a pre-birthday surprise."

"A shopping trip? It's just one little bra, right?"

"Well, we're going to make a day of it. It'll probably be my last big day out before the baby's born." That's another reason why I want to take care of this now, because it'll be harder to find time then. Also, I want Sam to know that, even if I end up having a daughter, she will still be my girl, too.

"A day of it? Listen, why don't I just buy her a bra? I've got more free time than you do right now, and I bought her a fishing rod. I bought her hockey skates. I'll buy her a bra."  
"Tony, it's not quite the same thing."  
"They were ladies' skates."

"Tony."

He sighs. "I know, I know. This is your department, huh?"  
"I'm afraid so."

"Well, when Jonathan's ready to go to mud wrestling, I'm your man."

"Thank you. I'll keep you in mind."

He kisses me. "You do have good taste in bras." Then he shudders. "This is so weird for me!"

"I know, Darling, I know."

...

"Oh, Sam Sweetheart, you look so beautiful!" I exclaim.

"You really do," Mother says.

"The dress isn't too old for me, is it?" Sam asks nervously.

Mother smiles. "No, it's perfect for an almost twelve-year-old."

"Thank you. I hope Dad thinks so."

"He just has to see you in it to know it's perfect."

I'm not as confident as Mother sounds. We're really walking a tightrope here. We didn't want to get too babyish a dress for Sam, something that Tony would approve, but on the other hand, we didn't want anything that looks like it's for a teenager. And it's not as if Sam has never worn a dress before. She did at Michael's wedding for instance, but this is the first time we're shopping for a dress she could wear to boy-girl parties, or a dance. (The sixth grade has dances. I don't know if Tony knows that but I'm sure he'll find out when he starts teaching there. No doubt he'll want to chaperone them if Sam attends.)

This dress is pink with gray trim. The top is square-cut and of course not at all low-cut. The skirt is below the knee. Considering what I've seen girls who are just a couple years older than Sam wearing, it's very modest and lady-like. (She does not look like a "Madonna wannabe," which would give Tony a coronary.)

"I wonder about accessories," I can't help thinking out loud.

"Accessories to a crime?" Sam still has moments when I remember that she's one-quarter Nick Milano.

"No, Sweetie, for your dress."  
"Ooo, yes! Gray gloves, a little string of pearls!" Mother has impeccable taste in clothes.

"Yes, and the right shoes and purse."

"Can I get high heels?" Sam asks eagerly.

I hesitate, thinking of all we're asking Tony to accept. "No, not till you're a teenager."

Sam frowns but then shrugs. "Well, it'd be too hard to play basketball in them, right?" She understands. She knows her father as well as we do.

We get her some nice gray flats, ballerina style. She does look so lovely, so grown-up. My eldest.

She begs to wear the whole ensemble home from the city. She wants to go in and surprise her father. I hope that Tony will say something nice, as much of a shock as this will be. I know he thinks Sam is beautiful anyway, but little-girl beautiful, not young-lady beautiful.

On the train ride back, Sam snuggles up against me in a way that she hasn't in a long time. "You're more huggable when you're pregnant," she says.

"Well, thank you."

She puts her hand on my stomach. "I can feel him or her moving!"

"Yes, one more month till he or she meets his or her big sister."

"This is all part of it, isn't it?" she says reflectively.

"What, Sweetheart?"

"I get a bra and then someday my period and then someday, a long time from now, I'll have a baby."

"Well, yes."

"But I'll still be Daddy's little girl, huh?"

"And mine, too."

She smiles. "I sort of like that. As long as you two remember that I'll be a grown-up, too."

"Mother still doesn't always remember that with me."

"Mona is like a teenager though, isn't she?" Sam says. She glances over at where Mother is flirting with the ticket-taker.

"Well, in some ways."  
"I guess people don't have to grow up all at once, or forever, huh?"

"You're right."

"It's complicated."  
"Yes, it is." I remember Tony saying this morning that he appreciated me "helping him through puberty."

"Angela, I know Dr. Schaeffer is your best friend, but I feel weird about her marrying Dr. Ferguson."

"Oh?"

"I mean, I like her. Marci does, too. But it's going to be strange for her when the doctors get married."

"I guess it would be." I think it will be an adjustment for both families, although I am happy for Isabel and Paul of course.

"Marci's not little like I was, and she's had more time on her own with just her dad than I had. It's going to be hard for her to share her father. Does that make sense?"

"Of course, Sweetheart. Is it hard for you sometimes?"

"Nah, I'm used to you."

I smile. "Well, good."  
"Plus, me and Dad have stuff like sports in common that you don't really like. Just like you and I have things, girl stuff, that he and Jonathan don't share."

"Right."

"But I guess Marci and Dr. Schaeffer will have stuff in common, too, after awhile, huh?"

"Yes."

"You know what? This is a secret." She whispers the rest. "Marci's dad bought her a bra!"

"He did?"

"Yes, isn't that awful?"

"Well, I guess it could be embarrassing."

"Yeah, he didn't even know to get the kind with the little pink bow, so she had to go back with him and show him. She told me that next time she'd rather go with Dr. Schaeffer. Or maybe we could take her."

"Maybe the five of us could go: Marci, Isabel, Mother, you, and I." I'm sure Mother would be up for it.

"That would be fun. But won't you be busy with the new baby?"

"I think by the time either of you is ready for a new bra, I can find time for Bloomingdale's."

"Good." She snuggles up against me again, dozing off except for when the baby kicks.


	17. Mona Gets Pinned

"Angela, don't you think you're overreacting?" At first when I came in and found her raiding the refrigerator, I figured it was standard ninth-month behavior. Then I realized she was upset about Mona and Jason.

"Overreacting? Did you see how young he is?"

"She's dated younger men before." Bobby Governale for one.

"Not this young! He's only 20!"  
"Well, at least they're both juniors." To be honest, I'm surprised she waited this long to date a college guy. True, she's dated a couple professors, but not her own.

"Tony, he's barely a third of her age! She's a third of a century older than he is!"

"Yeah, but she's young for her age. And he seems mature for his."

"I don't have anything against him personally. If he were 40, or even 30, I wouldn't mind as much."

"But what difference does it make? I mean, you're older than I am."

She winces. "By two years, Tony. We were in high school at the same time."

"So these two are in college at the same time."

Then Sam comes in and says, "Oo, are you two talking about Mona's cute boyfriend?"

"Samantha!" I yell.

"I know, he's kind of dorky-looking, but in a cute way. You know, like Almanzo Wilder on _Little House on the Prairie_."

"Samantha Marie Micelli, you are way too young to be thinking about boys, especially college boys."

"Oh, I don't know, Tony. If she takes after Mother, she should be dating a kindergartner."

"Oo, gross!"

I cross my arms. "Is there a reason you're downstairs this late?"

"I wanted to know if I can wait up for Mona. I want to hear how her date went."

"Sam, there is no way in he—heck I am allowing that."

"No, Tony, let's all wait up for Mother. I'll go wake up Jonathan." I think she's kidding but then she leaves the room as quickly as a woman in this advanced a state of pregnancy can.

"Oh, that ain't good." Like me, Sam resorts to the vernacular of Pitkin Avenue when necessary.

"You ain't kiddin'." I do not want Angela so upset with the baby due in about a week. But I don't know how to calm her down. I also don't want her yelling at Mona and poor Jason, who's a nice guy, and knowing Mona will probably be out of her life in a month. (She did date my father for a very long time, but they kept it casual.) Under the circumstances, all I can do is wait up with Angela, in hopes of intervening.

So the four of us sit on the stairs, waiting for Angela's 53-year-old mother to come home from a date.

"What do people do on college dates?" Jonathan asks.

Neither Angela nor I want to field that one, but Sam answers, presumably out of the knowledge she's gained from TV and movies. "Well, in the really olden days, like when Mona was a teenager, they would go to football games and wave pennants around. Then they would get a soda at the soda shop."

"Coke or Pepsi?" Jonathan asks.

"No, an ice cream soda. Then when Angela was in college, they would go to a love-in."

"Sam!" Angela gasps, although she looks amused.

"What's a love-in?"

I wonder if I should shut Sam up, but I'm too curious, and amused.

"Well, they would listen to loud rock music and roll around in the mud or in paint, and then kiss each other."

"Oo, gross! Did you really do that, Mom?"

Angela meets my eyes and I remember her telling me stories of her college dating life, stories to pass the time and get to know each other on the road trip the first weekend we met. She did once roll down the stairs wearing nothing but a slip and a wrist corsage, but it wasn't exactly Woodstock. (Well, she went to Woodstock, but the way she tells it, she spent most of the time studying for her summer classes.)

"Not very often, Sweetie."

"No, Jonathan, that was just the hippies that did that. Nerds like Angela would go to cotillions and stuff."

"What's a cotillion?"

"A dance like a Disney Princess would go to."  
"Oh. I think I would rather go to a love-in because I could take Iggy."

"Dummy, you can't take an iguana on a date!"

"Don't call your brother a dummy!" I scold. I know, he's her stepbrother, but it slips out before I can rephrase it. Even though I grew up as an only child, I remember hearing parents yell stuff like that all the time in the old neighborhood. Sometimes accompanied by a slap, but I've made it a policy to never hit Sam, or Jonathan for that matter. I think kids learn better by being talked to, although Dennis and my other old friends with kids think I'm crazy.

"Did you hear a car pull up?" Angela says suddenly.

"Oo, they're here!" Sam says excitedly.

I say, "OK, so we waited up for them and now we can all go to sleep and—"

"I want to kiss Grandma goodnight."

"Take a number, Kid," I mutter.

Then the door opens and Mona looks at us all sitting on the stairs, even Grover, who wakes up and barks when his owner comes in.

Mona shakes her head. "Well, here they all are: the Moral Majority."

Angela snaps, "It's late. Where have you been?"

Jason looks amused. He puts on a "Richie Cunningham" voice and says, "Gee, I'm sorry, Mrs. Micelli. I, uh, ran out of gas."

I'm amused, too, despite my worries. "You can think of one better than that. How about a flat tire?"

Angela seems to have lost her sense of humor, because she says, "Mother, if you were going to be late, you could have called."

"I didn't know I had a curfew."  
Sam says, "Well, it is a school night. Are you going to ground her, Angela?" I can see Sam loves this, and I try not to think about how in a couple years we may be having a similar conversation, and it won't be so funny then.

"I should be annoyed with you all for waiting up. But I'm not, because I want to share something with you. I've been pinned!" Mona throws out her ample chest, but I don't see anything pinned to her turtleneck. "Where's the pin? My pin! It was on my sweater!" She starts crawling around, looking for it on the floor. Grover barks again and comes over to help, as does Jonathan.

"I found it!" he cries after a minute. And sure enough, he's found it, on the back of Mona's sweater. Well, I think it started out the evening as the front. "What a funny place to wear a pin."

Before any of us can explain, Angela exclaims, "OH GOD!"  
"Honestly, Dear, it was just a little harmless—"

"Contractions!" Angela gasps.

"Oh, Angie, now?"  
"Now, Tony!"

"What's going on?" Jonathan looks scared by her facial expression, and I don't blame him. I've been through this before and I'm a little scared myself. Grover barks very loudly.

"She's having the baby!" Sam squeals.

"In our living room?"

"Let me move my car so you can get your car out." Jason goes back outside.

"Tony, we need to take the van instead of the Jag."  
"Huh, what?" I can't think, I can't concentrate on anything except that Angela is going into labor.

"I am not ruining the seat covers in my Jaguar."

"I'll buy you new ones! Sheepskin!"

"Why would you ruin the seat covers, Mommy?" Jonathan asks.

"She might have the baby in the car. That happens to women all the time," Sam says.

"Dear, if the contractions just started, I think you have a little time before it's urgent." Our delinquent coed has shifted back to her role as wise matriarch.

"Right. Of course."  
"Mona, what do we do?" I can't remember anything from before. And it has been a dozen years.

"You time the contractions. I'll take the kids and the dog over to my place."

"Don't we get to go to the hospital?" Sam asks.

"Not till after the baby's born. Well, probably not Grover."  
"We always miss all the fun!" Jonathan whines.

"Come on, Jonathan, I'll let your iguana play in the Jacuzzi."  
"Neato!" He grabs the cage from the coffee table.

As they head out the back door, Sam asks, "So, Mona, does this mean you and Jason are going steady now?"

"If you marry him," Jonathan wonders, "does that make him my grandpa?"

Grover growls.

"OH GOD!" Angela cries.

"My feelings exactly."

"Tony, get your watch!"

"Yeah, right, sorry." My watch is upstairs so I dash into the kitchen and grab the kitchen timer.

"I'm not a three-minute egg!"  
"Baby, it'll be fine." I set it for ten minutes. I think if it goes off before her next contraction, we've still got time. "So, uh, about Jason—"  
"Not now, Tony!"

"I was just gonna say, should I tell him that Mona went home?"

"How are you going to do that if you're timing me?"

I hand her the timer. "Here, I'll be right back. But just in case."

I go outside, and Jason is talking to Wendy Wittener, who's wearing a robe and pajamas. "...I don't know. I think they just started."

Wendy grabs my arm. "Tony, is Angela all right?"  
"Yeah, she's fine. She's just having a baby."  
"Men!" She pushes past me and into the house.

"That was one of Angela's best friends," I explain.

Jason nods. "Yeah, she told me. Uh, unless you guys need me for anything, I should probably be taking off. I've got a class in the morning."  
"Is it the one you're taking with Mona?"  
"Yeah, I'll tell the professor she probably won't be able to make it."

I shake my head. "She's probably the only junior who's ditching class because she's about to become a grandmother again."

"Yeah. It's funny, I never think of Mona as middle-aged. She's so young and vibrant. And have you ever seen her in a bikini?"

"OK, goodnight, Jason."

"Goodnight, Tony. And good luck with the baby."  
"Thanks."

I'm about to go back in when Isabel shows up, also in a robe but over a slinky negligee. I don't know if Wendy called her or if she saw the lights on and all the fuss. Or maybe this is just some women's intuition thing. "Is it Angela?"

I suddenly remember she's a doctor. Not an obstetrician, but close enough. "Yeah, the contractions just started. Can you come inside?"

"Of course."

Everything will be OK now. Well, other than Wendy complaining that Isabel chose Angela as matron of honor over her, despite "seeing her through two children and a divorce," it is.

The contractions aren't too close yet. Isabel is timing them with her watch, which she apparently had time to put on before she left the house.

"So were you timing Paul or something?" Wendy wants to know.

"Oh, Wendy, hush." Isabel sounds like she's used to her.

"Tony, since we've got some time, I think you know what you need to do," Angela says.

"Huh?"

"Go get your present and open it."  
"My present?" She got lots of gifts at the baby shower these two threw her, but it's not like I got anything as the dad.

"Your Christmas present."

I stare at her. "Isn't it a little early for Christmas?" Like three months early. And then I realize, almost nine months ago. I swallow and nod. "You want me to open it in front of them?"

"Hey, there are no secrets in this neighborhood," Wendy says, and she should know.

I think of Pop's gift as private but I guess it doesn't matter. I go upstairs and find it at the bottom of the bedroom closet. I take it back down. Angela, who's been pacing, sits on my lap. She's heavy but she feels good and right there. My wife, my lover, my woman, the mother of my children. She nestles against me. I'd put my arms around her but I've got to open the present.

I unwrap it and take out Pop's pocket watch. I look heavenward and say, "OK, Pop, I get the hint!" He's telling me it's time.

"Good, now you can time the contractions. I think my watch is slow. Goodnight, Angela, good luck." And Isabel leaves, maybe back to Paul's bed, or maybe home to her kids.

"Angela, you want me to sit your kids so Mona can go to the hospital?" Wendy offers.  
"Yes, please."

"OK." And she heads out the back door, towards Mona's apartment.

Angela takes the watch from me and I put my arms around her. I can feel a contraction go through her, like it's going through my body, too. She looks at the time but then turns the watch over and says, " _To my_ _14 carat son._ Oh, Tony, that's just perfect."

"Yeah," I murmur. I think if the baby is a boy, I'll pass it on to him. Sam can still have the Cards card, and Jonathan the Mets ball. But baby Matty should have this.


	18. Charmed Lives

"Was I this cute as a baby?"

Daddy stops making silly faces at Katie and smiles his big smile at me. "Yeah, Matty, you were."

I'm named after Daddy's daddy, Matteo Micelli. Grandpa died before I was born but everyone says I look like him. He drove a garbage truck, which is awesome. I would like to drive a fire truck someday. Daddy is a volunteer fireman, one of the cool things he does, like coach my peewee baseball team. I have the best daddy in the neighborhood. He is smart, funny, nice, strong, brave, and everything. When I told Mommy that, she said, "You left out handsome."

Mommy is all those things, too. Well, pretty instead of handsome. She has her own business, making commercials. Daddy is a teacher at my school. I can't wait till he's my teacher, but Jonathan says it was embarrassing sometimes.

Jonathan is my big brother. He's 16 and can drive a car. He knows all about science and money. He would babysit me and Katie tonight but he has a date, which doesn't happen very often. (Girls think he's a geek, but I think he's cool. My whole family is cool, in different ways.)

"Hey, Kiddo, ready to party?"

Yea, Sam is here! Sam is my big sister. She doesn't live at home anymore. She lives with her boyfriend. Daddy wasn't happy about that at first. He didn't even want her to move out to the dorms, which are like apartments for college people. But he got used to it and then she said it was too noisy for her to study. Daddy wanted her to move back home, but Mommy was pregnant by then and it would've meant that Jonathan and I would have to share a room when Katie was born.

We didn't know she would be Katie, named after Mommy's middle name Katherine, but Daddy sometimes calls her Katie Face. We just knew she would be a baby. They didn't even know yet that she was going to be a girl. They found out later.

Anyway, Sam moved in with some nice people in a house, other college students. It was a girl and a guy, and Daddy didn't like the idea of that until he found out that the girl and the guy were engaged. But then the girl broke up with the guy, and so Sam and the guy were living alone, which Mrs. Rossini says is a sin. And Sam's finance got mad and punched the guy, so Sam broke up with him, which Daddy was happy about because he said Sam was too young to be engaged, even though she was 18 and all grown up.

Anyway, Sam fell in love with that guy she lived with, and he's Benjamin and he's cool, too. He's funny. Daddy is used to him now. They're not engaged because they don't want to rush into anything but Grandma hopes they'll get married someday because she likes to see people get together and stay together. That's why she's a marriage counselor.

Grandma is I'm not sure how old but she is lots of fun. She doesn't babysit much because she dates more than Jonathan, but when she does, she lets me eat as much ice cream as I want.

Sam picks me up now and gives me a piggy-back ride, even though I'm getting kind of big. I'm 7 1/2. I was born on September 20, 1984. I was supposed to be a Libra but instead I'm a Virgo. I like to practice reading with the horoscopes and the comics in the newspaper. Daddy and I both like _Blondie_ best.

Daddy is a Taurus, which means he's stubborn but very nice. Mommy is a Gemini, which means that she has different sides to her personality. I guess they're "compatible" because they kiss more than any other parents in the neighborhood. And they laugh together a lot and have all kinds of special secrets, like that they got married when they were drunk in Las Vegas, Nevada.

I don't think Sam and Jonathan know that. They were little when it happened, younger than me I mean, but not as little as Katie. I'm not supposed to know either, but I overheard Mommy and Daddy talking about it right before my birthday last year, when I was snooping around to find out what they got me.

"Tony, did you ever think when we woke up together that morning, almost thirteen years ago, that it would lead to all this?"

"Angie, with the hangover I had, all I could think about at first was where I'd left my aspirin."

"Oh, you!"

"Angela, I am very glad we got married then. But, no, I wouldn't have predicted thirteen years of happiness, four wonderful kids."

"Anyone home?"  
"And an ever-present mother-in-law."

I went upstairs before they caught me. They always told me that they got married on Thanksgiving, in Brooklyn. Sam remembers it but Jonathan doesn't. I talked to Katie about what I heard, since she's just a baby and I knew she could keep a secret. She turns one tomorrow, April 25, 1992. That's Taurus, like Daddy. She is pretty stubborn but she's too little to be nice yet. She likes to pull our hair and put our fingers in her mouth, but she doesn't do it to be mean. She just doesn't know any better.

Daddy and Mommy are going out tonight because it's Friday, their date night. Not all married people still date, but they do. They are going dancing, because they love to dance and because Mommy has lost all her pregnancy fat now.

Mommy comes downstairs in a pretty dark blue dress with no sleeves and a puffy skirt with sparkles all over. Her hair is piled on top of her head. I can tell by the way Daddy looks at her that he still knows she's beautiful. He's wearing a tucks, with an apron over it because sometimes Katie is messy. Sam stops giving me a piggy-back ride and takes Katie from Daddy.

"Have fun, you two."

Jonathan comes in from the kitchen. "Remember, Mom, you've got a curfew."

She shakes her head. "So do you, Young Man."

"Aah, he'll be back by 9 as usual."  
"Thanks, Sam. Not all of us can get engaged twice by the age of 20."

"WHAT?" Daddy shouts.

"Thanks, Jonathan. I owe you," Sam says like she owes him a punch.

Mommy seems less surprised. She hugs me and then kisses Katie on the forehead, trying to keep Katie from pulling Mommy's hair down. "Come on, Tony, we have reservations for 7."

"But, Sam is—"  
"I doubt she and Benjamin will elope before we come home. Otherwise, she'll have to find us another sitter."

Daddy looks like he wants to argue, but he sighs, takes off the apron, and kisses all of us goodbye, except Jonathan, who he musses up the hair of. As he and Mommy go out the front door, I hear him say, "You always get your way in the end, don't you, Boss?" But he doesn't sound like he's complaining.

THE END FOR GOOD


End file.
